The Highlander's Runaway Bride
Terri Brisbin
A pact…A bride…A secret never to be told!When Eva MacKay learns that her father has bartered her off to a warrior from a neighbouring clan she has no choice but to run away, taking her dark secrets with her. Freedom is now within her grasp!Dutiful highlander Rob Mackintosh tracks down his runaway bride – only to be stunned by the fireworks that erupt between them. For behind Eva’s timid smile lies a headstrong beauty – and Rob knows that, no matter what, this marriage is going to be full of surprises!A Highland FeudingRival clans, forbidden love
Rob laid the things aside and shook his head, watching her sleep there.
What kind of woman would run away when given the news of her impending marriage? Especially a marriage that would hold benefits for both families involved?
She shifted on the furs and mumbled some words in her sleep. Though he could blame some of her restlessness in sleep on her illness and fever, she never seemed to be at peace when she slept. She called out names, mostly just one, throughout the time when sleep claimed her.
Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
If she did not know him, or the Mackintoshes, then they could not be the reason for her refusal to accept the marriage. Yet she had done the unthinkable and left the safety and protection of her father’s keep to avoid it. Was it just maidenly fear or something more?
Though clearly fear was not something that seemed to rule her life if she was brave enough to do what she’d done …
Author Note (#ulink_e719157e-a41e-573d-ac0c-d57ea898a31e)
I knew halfway through writing Stolen by the Highlander that Rob Mackintosh would have his story told next. He was quite vocal, and rather loud, and … ahem … insistent about it, really. So it did not surprise me when I wrote the epilogue and he told me how to set up his book!
Rob has become used to people wanting to use his influence with his friend and chieftain Brodie since their clan triumphed over treachery. So the fact that someone doesn’t want him is a shock to him.
Eva has her own problems, which have come from youthful follies and falling in love with the wrong man. She is certain that Rob is not the right man and now is not the right time. So she runs away for many reasons.
Two proud people who fall in love in spite of themselves. Sigh … I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Next? Well, since the feuding between the clans Mackintosh and Cameron lasted more than three hundred years, I’ve got lots of ideas and stories planned.
Happy reading!
PS I’ve wanted to use the name Eva for a heroine ever since seeing the film WALL-E. There is a Gaelic form, but it would have had you all tripping over it every time you saw it on the page. So I compromised and used Eva—but, FYI, the original form is ‘Aoife’ pronounced ‘Ee-fa’ or ‘Ee-va’ … So it worked for me!
The Highlander’s
Runaway Bride
Terri Brisbin
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TERRI BRISBIN is wife to one, mother of three, and dental hygienist to hundreds when not living the life of a glamorous romance author. She was born, raised, and is still living in the southern New Jersey suburbs. Terri’s love of history led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England.
This story is dedicated to friends and writing brainstormers extraordinaire Jen Wagner Schmidt and Lyn Wagner.
I began this story knowing only that the bride would be kidnapped on her wedding day and little else. With their pointed and relentless questions I ended up with an entire story plotted out. And I will always be grateful for their help!
Contents
Cover (#ua524a3f9-2c0d-54c7-8a2a-3255bde13d8a)
Introduction (#u3390bcb6-645b-591a-8c1f-e3c3fbc3f5de)
Author Note (#ue91876c8-4dcd-5034-a351-1d0e42f83573)
Title Page (#u95b5c949-0260-5c93-a7d9-1bb9e555d6fe)
About the Author (#u027659f4-1991-568f-a706-cced5fcf7475)
Dedication (#u2f9892ce-b785-53c4-a1fb-6e8df9c2ad69)
Prologue (#ubc0429bf-5353-5230-a5e6-59ee36dd2689)
Chapter One (#u316d4f16-868d-5d6f-b8ba-a8402d9fad09)
Chapter Two (#u33ef94e2-ecb2-5de8-994d-4975dd3f0072)
Chapter Three (#u893f1865-f21b-527b-a9d7-0375f88a8aa4)
Chapter Four (#u9a25a03e-52bf-5f82-8555-18c039387719)
Chapter Five (#ucd69b48d-f677-5d9d-a1a9-538f88930e0f)
Chapter Six (#uff80b00c-da8e-5a24-bad8-7453d6cfaba7)
Chapter Seven (#ub5f3aa33-79fb-5284-978f-0c4c57fb7f5e)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_bbb23464-986f-5990-954f-9f066e1afd5f)
Scourie, northwest Scotland
Eva MacKay was utterly in love.
The exhaustion and pain and fear of the last days faded as she stroked her finger down the soft cheek of the baby lying on her chest. The perfect rosebud mouth pursed and the tip of a tiny pink tongue could be seen. And when the wee bairn’s eyes opened and seemed to meet her own gaze, Eva was lost.
She leaned down and kissed the babe’s forehead, whispering soft words against the damp skin. Through the hours of labouring to give birth, Eva could only think of the man who should be at her side. He would never see his daughter. Never see their daughter. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over as she whispered his name to their child. The babe squirmed a bit and closed her eyes then, drifting to sleep. Eva then whispered the name they’d chosen if a daughter was born to them.
Mairead.
Eva moved her closer, tucking the blanket tighter around the little body and holding her close. The only way out of this would be to throw herself on her father’s questionable mercy and beg to be allowed to keep the bairn. Yet, from her mother’s cold response so far, she knew she would have no allies for her argument.
Her body needed rest now before she could make her plans. She ached deep inside, both from the birth’s trauma and her broken heart. The babe sighed and Eva closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the little one’s warmth. Drifting off to sleep, Eva woke when someone lifted the bairn away.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked the unfamiliar woman.
The woman said nothing. She simply wrapped the blanket around Eva’s babe and began to leave.
‘Who are you and where are you taking her?’ she asked louder.
Struggling against the pain and the bleeding, Eva pushed the bed linens back and tried to get out of bed. No one would take her bairn. Not now. Not ever.
‘Here now, my lady,’ Suisan, the woman sent along by Eva’s father, said as she entered the chamber. ‘I need to see to you, and the bairn will be well cared for while I do it.’
Suisan was efficient in her actions and within a short time, Eva found herself bathed and wearing a clean shift. The bed linens had been changed and all evidence that she’d given birth was removed from the chamber. Sipping a hot concoction that Suisan gave her, Eva felt the pain and anxiousness ease.
‘You can bring her back now, Suisan,’ Eva said, handing the cup back to the woman. ‘I should try to feed her.’
‘All of that is being seen to, my lady. Nothing for you to worry over now,’ Suisan whispered as she moved around the bed, smoothing and tucking the bedcovers in tighter.
‘Seen to?’ Eva asked, trying to push herself up to sit and finding that her body would not obey her commands. ‘I said to bring her to me, Suisan.’ The chamber grew dim and the room seemed to melt away.
‘She is no longer your concern, my lady. You must rest and regain your strength now,’ the woman urged.
‘She is mine,’ Eva argued, but her words came out slurred and confused.
Eva knew she’d been given something to make her sleep, but that was not the alarming part. This woman’s words struck fear deep into Eva’s heart. But her attempts to sit up and to go to find her babe were for naught, as her body surrendered to whatever herb was in that cup.
‘No longer, my lady.’ Suisan drew the sheet and blanket higher and tucked it around Eva’s shoulders. ‘She is gone now. Nothing to worry over now.’
All thoughts fled as she sank into oblivion.
* * *
Days passed as she rose and sank into its depths. Days and nights melded into one blur until the day, three weeks later she thought, when her father arrived to take her home.
It took another week to reach their home in Tongue, far to the north and to the east of Durness, but Eva knew nothing but desolation and misery. Her father, Ramsey MacKay, chieftain of the Clan MacKay, never mentioned the child. He treated Eva as though nothing had happened, and Eva understood that this was his way of erasing the ‘unfortunate incident’ from existence.
Only when the herb-induced haze wore off did the true panic set in—she did not know if her daughter lived or had died. That fear gave her the resolve she needed at her weakest moments, and Eva knew she would find out the truth somehow. If her father would not tell her, she would seek it out herself. That plan gave her a reason to heal and to gain her strength back.
Pretending to be the dutiful daughter, she struggled through the terrible emptiness of loss, while deciding how she should proceed. With no kith or kin to support her, she knew she must do it alone. And she would.
* * *
Three more weeks passed when the news came. Not word of her daughter as she’d hoped and prayed, but instead news about her own fate.
She was to be married off to the kin of a powerful chieftain in the south to bind their families together. Her father’s edict gave her no choice in the matter of marriage. His declaration that it would happen spurred her into action. Refusal was not an option for her in this—her father could be ruthless in getting his own way. If the Mackintosh’s man arrived and Eva was here, she would be wed to him.
So, Eva did the only thing she could do...
She ran away.
Chapter One (#ulink_43c231c1-d5df-5c29-a8b0-804138f60d07)
Drumlui Keep
Rob Mackintosh, cousin and close friend of chieftain of the powerful Mackintosh clan, glared at that friend and was met by an expression he could only describe as glee. Brodie did not even attempt to hide his enjoyment of Rob’s discomfort.
‘Damn it to hell, Arabella!’ Rob cursed. Brodie’s wife had neatly undermined his argument against this proposed marriage with a few words. ‘How am I supposed to refuse it now?’ He turned and strode out, still cursing under his breath as he left.
The last six months since Brodie had taken his place as chieftain of the clan and the head of the Chattan Confederation had been busy ones for Rob. After struggling to help his friend defeat his treacherous cousin Caelan and undo the damages wrought during Caelan’s rule, Rob had taken a position on the council that advised and guided Brodie. But, everyone knew that Brodie trusted Rob as he did no other, and Rob soon became the one to seek if someone needed or wanted something from Brodie.
Rob nodded to several in passing as he made his way down the corridor away from the chamber Brodie used as his workroom. From the way their mouths twitched, he knew they’d heard either the cursing or the door slam.
A marriage contract.
For him.
To some unknown, unmet woman from the north. To bind her clan and his and expand Brodie’s sphere of influence.
All of that was the normal pattern of events for marriages and contracts, but somehow Rob had wanted something...more. Something or someone different. Always in Brodie’s shadow but not close enough in blood, he’d hoped that would protect him from clan machinations and plans. Clearly, it had not.
Turning the corner, he strode down the corridor and out the doorway that led to the yard. He needed some fresh air to clear his head and think on this matter. Rob did not doubt that Brodie would have his back in this and, if Rob refused outright, Brodie would accept it. But, meeting the gaze of Arabella and saying no would be another thing.
Rob had watched as she, once their enemy, had first given Brodie back his soul and then helped to save their clan. In spite of the long history of hatred and mistrust between the Mackintoshes and the Camerons, Arabella had accomplished what many had thought impossible and, more than that, she’d saved Rob’s closest friend.
If truth be told, Rob knew he would have to come up with a strong objection to allow himself to refuse this arrangement. He let out a breath and looked around. Somehow his feet had taken him into the village, and he stood before his sister’s cottage.
Brodie had said that Margaret approved the match. Rob suspected that she would be in support of any arrangement that ended with him married. She’d long decried his bachelorhood and had tried her own hand at matchmaking, but he’d resisted. She was probably chortling with glee over his situation now.
‘Margaret?’ he said, knocking on the door frame. ‘Are you within?’ She called out to him.
Leaning down to enter, he watched as Margaret put a pile of clothing aside and stood to greet him. She was always busy, her hands never idle or empty. And though her husband was gone, she worked more now than when he was alive, taking in the strays and the lost and the injured, seeing to their care until they could move on. Just as she had in their mountain camp during their months and months of exile and outlawry.
‘Ah, Robbie...’ She clutched his shoulders and drew him down for a kiss. ‘You have been a busy man.’
‘Is that your way of saying I do not see you often enough?’ Rob asked as he stepped back. She smiled and nodded.
‘Well, now that you are such an important man, seeing to the chieftain’s business and travelling so much, I understand.’ Rob narrowed his gaze and watched for signs that she was teasing him.
‘Aye, Margaret,’ he said as he finally recognised the tiny lines at the edge of her eyes as humour. ‘I am so important.’
‘Truly, Rob, are you well?’ she asked, concern filling her tone. Before he could answer, a knock came on the door and it was pulled open.
‘Margaret? Are you here, lass?’
A man who called his widowed sister lass? Rob turned to see who this man was and was shocked when Magnus, one of the warriors, ducked low and entered. From the man’s startled expression, he did not expect Rob to be here. The glances that passed between Magnus and his sister told Rob the answer to the question he’d not yet voiced.
‘Aye, Magnus,’ Margaret said, walking to the door and the man. The blush in her cheeks both surprised and pleased him in some way. Though he would never have thought of this, clearly there was something more than simple kinship between the two. ‘Rob just arrived.’
‘Rob,’ Magnus said, holding out his hand in greeting. ‘How goes it?’
‘Well, Magnus,’ he answered, accepting the man’s hand. ‘What brings you here?’ he asked, even knowing ’twas neither his right nor his place to ask such a thing.
‘I help your sister from time to time with the heavier tasks at hand,’ Magnus explained. His voice grew gruff and Margaret’s face grew redder. Heavier tasks, his arse! ‘With you being off, seeing to Brodie’s business, I stop by when I can.’ Margaret looked near to choking or exploding, Rob could not decide which, so he took pity on her.
‘I am glad you are here to aid her, Magnus. Especially when I cannot be,’ Rob said.
He meant it. Though from their actions, the shy glances shared between them and their nervousness, Rob understood the relationship that was growing. Margaret’s healing skills had saved Magnus’s life during their exile, and the two had spent much time together.
If it pleased his sister to have this man close at her side, then it pleased him. She did not need his approval to marry again or to take a man to her bed. If she found some joy after the bitter loss of her husband, Rob would not deny or question her. The air around them grew tense, and he felt the odd one here and knew he should go. But first...
‘Speaking of my travels, Magnus, Brodie has offered my hand in marriage.’
‘’Tis about time for that, Rob,’ Margaret said, laughing and pulling him back into a hug. Magnus stepped aside to let her close. ‘I had given up any hope of my efforts working to see you matched.’ She let him go but kept her hand on his arm. ‘So who is the lass?’
The snort he let out was unexpected, as were her words. Margaret had given no approval. Hell, she had not even known of the offer. Brodie would pay for this.
‘A MacKay from the north. Brodie wishes our clans joined, and I seem to be the eligible kinsman to be offered to the slaughter.’
He did not need to see her wince to hear the bitterness in his own voice. If this match did happen, he should not want his resistance whispered around. Margaret leaned in close then.
‘Mayhap this is for the best, Rob? Brodie would not ask someone he did not trust to do something as important as this.’
Rob nodded. ‘Aye, you have it right, Margaret. I had just hoped...’
He paused, not knowing how to explain his feelings to her. Men and women looked at this from different perspectives and, since her marriage—one that resulted in a deep love—had been an arranged one, she would likely not do anything but support it. Some noise outside caught his attention and gave him the excuse he needed to leave.
‘I must see to packing for the journey,’ he said. Kissing his sister, he nodded at Magnus and then could not stop himself from a wee tease. ‘Have a care with those heavy tasks, Magnus. A man could find himself confined to a bed easily if they are not done well.’
Rob walked out quickly then, but not without hearing Margaret’s sputtered curse and Magnus’s deep and hearty laughter. It did his heart good to know that Margaret had found joy again and that Magnus would be there for her.
* * *
The rest of the day passed quickly, too quickly for his taste, as he saw to his duties that involved training the warriors. Fighting at Brodie’s side over the past years had honed his skills with weapons and strategies, and he enjoyed this part of his duties the most.
Then, he gave Brodie, and Arabella, his answer at dinner.
Brodie’s reaction was exactly what he expected it to be—a knowing nod of his head and a satisfied expression in his gaze. Arabella, well, Arabella jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and clutching him close, regardless of her ever-expanding girth.
‘I am glad, Rob,’ she said, wiping at her eyes as she released him. ‘I want you to be happy in this. I pray you will find the MacKay girl to your liking and you will be happy.’
Any desire to argue or correct her dissipated at Brodie’s approach. The look in his eyes now promised retribution and pain if Rob dared ruin Brodie’s wife’s happiness in this matter. Having been at the wrong end of Brodie’s anger more than once, Rob decided to allow her to believe the optimism in her words and he just nodded.
‘When will you leave?’ Brodie asked, as he guided Arabella back to her chair.
‘In a day or two. I have some things to see to before I leave.’
‘How many will you take?’
Rob inhaled and let it out before answering his laird. He’d thought on this all day while finishing up some tasks. If this failed, he wanted no one to witness it. Whether Brodie would agree was another matter.
‘I go alone.’
Silence greeted his words for several long seconds. He met Brodie’s stare, waiting as his friend thought on his answer.
‘I would rather you take at least a small number of men with you,’ he said. ‘But you will be travelling through lands held by allies or kin and can defend yourself,’ Brodie agreed. ‘How long will you take?’
‘If the weather holds, no more than a fortnight to get there and another to get back. I will stay there as long as it takes,’ he said.
‘Rob...’ Brodie began. Rob held up his hand to forestall his friend.
‘I am at peace with this, Brodie. If I cannot tolerate the woman or have some strong objection, I will speak my mind to you.’ Brodie smiled and nodded. ‘I am at peace,’ he repeated, ‘but not happy at all.’
Accepting more wine in his cup from a passing servant, Rob drank it down in one swallow. He’d been truthful with Brodie—if there was something wrong with the lass, he would refuse. If there was some impediment or other reason, he would refuse. And if there was none, he would have to accept her.
* * *
As he mounted his horse and gathered the reins of the packhorse in his hand two days later, Rob rode out of Drumlui Keep, knowing that he would be a different man when he returned.
A married man, for better or worse.
He could only pray that it would be for the better.
But the situation that greeted him on his arrival made him realise, it was only going to get worse.
Chapter Two (#ulink_9b83ef7c-400f-5d68-9472-3ca29e464d63)
Three weeks later—Caisteal Bharraich—Castle Varrich—village of Tongue, Scotland
He should have gone by ship. He should have taken men with him. He should have done many things differently than he had. Rob knew that and more now as he neared the MacKay’s keep outside the small village of Tongue.
Following the winding path up and around the hill on which the castle sat, Rob heard the guards call out as he cleared the last copse of trees and approached. He called out his name and the gates opened. One man motioned for him to follow and he did, aware of those watching his every move. Once he’d ridden close to the entrance to the keep itself, he threw a leg over his horse and dismounted. A gap-toothed boy ran up and Rob tossed the reins of both horses to him. He whistled to the boy before the young one got more than a couple of paces away and tossed him a coin.
‘Mackintosh?’ a man called out from the open doorway. ‘The MacKay awaits you.’
Rob nodded and climbed the steps, leaning down to avoid hitting his head as he entered the keep. It was smaller than the one at Drumlui, but well kept and brightened by windows high up on the walls in the main hall. Glass from the looks of them. With the winds that blew in from the sea to the north and across the Kyle of Tongue, it was clear to him why those windows were small and thick.
Walking towards the large table at the other end of the rectangular chamber, Rob took note of a woman rushing there, as well. Not young enough to be his intended, she arrived there just as he did. He paused and bowed to the large, bearded man before him.
‘My lord,’ he said, as he lifted his head. ‘I bring greetings from the Mackintosh to you and your family.’
He’d brought several gifts that yet remained on the packhorse that he would present formally later. And, something more personal to give the young woman when, if, he accepted the marriage contract. Rob glanced around the chamber and, though he saw several servants and others in the hall, no woman young enough to be the MacKay’s heiress was present. Reaching inside his tunic, he took out a packet from Brodie and handed it to the MacKay.
‘Ye were expected nigh to a week ago,’ the MacKay said, nodding to a servant. ‘We heard of storms to the west. Did ye get caught in them?’
‘Aye,’ Rob said. He accepted a cup of ale from the servant and followed the laird’s lead over to a table. ‘What roads I found quickly became muck and mire.’
‘Not surprising at this time of year,’ the older man explained. ‘And this year the storms seem stronger coming from the north.’
The talk about the weather continued on and Rob knew it was forced. The rains came and went. The winds howled or caressed. The sun shone or hid. And none of that was of enough consequence for a man like this chieftain and a man like himself to dwell upon. It was, however, a perfect way to avoid the subject they should be discussing.
And why would the MacKay be avoiding that?
‘I have been amiss, Mackintosh,’ he now said. ‘I do not believe ye have met Lady MacKay, Morag Munro.’ Rob stood once more as the woman approached them now.
‘My lady,’ he said with a bow of his head. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’
‘Was your journey pleasant?’ she asked, sitting on a chair across from her husband.
The journey again. Would the weather be next?
‘Longer than I expected, my lady.’ He kept his tone polite and tried not to let his suspicion enter it.
‘These storms have been unusual.’
Rob nodded, smiled and drank from his cup, unable to speak in that moment. Something was amiss here.
Granted, he spent the first week of his journey being angry and cursing his fate. Well, cursing his best friend’s high-handed method of seeing to his life and future. And cursing his own inability to simply refuse. Mayhap the storms had been the Almighty’s way of slowing him down so that his eventual acceptance of this arrangement would happen before his arrival in Tongue?
And he had accepted the inevitable of this situation.
Until now.
He had not lived this long without a healthy amount of suspicion in his blood, without knowing when to look for more or without knowing to respect the feeling in his gut when it told him of danger. Or betrayal. He’d survived and protected Brodie’s life by understanding the signs.
Something was wrong here.
Rob searched for any sign of treachery and found none. The usual tasks and chores he would expect in a keep this size went on around him. Other than several guards posted at the doorway and one closer to the laird, he saw no increase in defence around the hall. Yet...
‘Your belongings have been taken to your chamber, sir,’ the lady said now. ‘If you have need of anything before our evening meal, simply ask one of the servants.’
Rob stood as the lady did, understanding he’d been dismissed from their company, even if the laird remained in his chair watching them silently.
‘Lady,’ he said, with a bow. ‘I appreciate your hospitality and look forward to speaking more at the evening meal.’
With another bow to the MacKay, he followed the servant off as he was clearly meant to do. Rob paused as they turned the corner down a corridor and glanced back at the laird and his lady. He found them watching him.
Oh, aye, something was amiss here. Now all he had to do was discover what it was. Suddenly, his reluctance over this match seemed the sensible approach after all.
* * *
The next hours passed slowly as he waited for darkness to fall and dinner to commence. He unpacked his clothing and found the two gifts he’d brought for the MacKay daughter: a book of prayers—from Arabella’s own collection—and a silken scarf—suggested by his sister. Lady Eva MacKay was well educated, according to Arabella, so the book should be appreciated. But, as Margaret had pointed out, a lass was still a lass and a lass liked something pretty, too. Hence the pale blue scarf.
A servant knocked on his door and invited him below, so Rob followed, observing the others who preceded and followed him as much as he could. Other than a few furtive glances, ones not unusual when seeing a stranger in their midst, he noticed nothing else. His presence would have been known by now and his position as the emissary of the Mackintosh would assure polite if not deferential treatment.
The hall filled with kith and kin and Rob was led to the front table and a seat waiting next to the MacKay. Strangely, there was no other open place, and his intended was not yet present.
‘Lady Eva?’ he asked after bowing and taking his place.
‘I must beg your pardon, sir—’ Lady MacKay began.
With a curt wave of her husband’s hand, her words and nearly her breath were cut off.
‘When you did not arrive as expected, my daughter asked permission to visit her cousin until you did. I have sent word, and she should arrive back here by midday on the morrow,’ the laird explained.
It was not the news or even the fact that the woman they all meant for him to marry was not present for his arrival. It was not even the nervousness of Lady MacKay or the furtive glances she threw in her husband’s direction. Many noble husbands and wives led barely civil lives together and others lived in open warfare.
No, it was the way everyone present there who could hear this conversation paused and seemed to hold their breath that gave Rob concern. As though this delay and absence was not a simple and usual thing, but was instead something big and important. Which made his hackles rise. He cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence, and nodded.
‘I look forward to having the pleasure of meeting her on the morrow, then.’
It was as if everyone let out their breath at once and returned to the conversations that they’d paused moments ago. Servants carried platters of roasted meats and fowl to the table, holding them so the laird and lady could select the choicest bits first. They brought the food to him next, as the honoured guest, and then to the rest at the high table.
The meal progressed and no one else mentioned the missing daughter at all. They discussed the MacKays. They discussed the Mackintoshes and the Chattan Confederation. They discussed the storms another time. All in all, it was the usual conversations and the usual fare for a diplomatic meal. Rob knew he would learn nothing here from them.
And yet, something flowed under it all. Mayhap he was right in his resistance to being forced into this marriage that would bring the Mackintoshes into an alliance with this clan? An opportunity to discover more came when one of the MacKay warriors approached and greeted him. They shared a mutual cousin, but Rob had forgotten that Iain lived here now.
‘Will ye join us for a wee game, Rob? When ye are finished with yer meal?’ Iain asked after greeting the laird and lady. ‘Just a few friends, ye ken.’ Iain, Rob now remembered, liked to throw dice.
‘With your permission?’ Rob turned to his host and awaited his word. There was a slight hesitation before a quick nod of consent. ‘Aye, Iain. I will seek you out when we finish.’
* * *
The table was cleared a short time later, and the lady was granted leave to retire. Once she’d left, the laird spoke to a few of his men, giving orders for the morn and then stood to leave. ‘Break your fast with us in the morn, Mackintosh. We can ride out to the coast, if the weather clears.’
‘Aye, my lord. Until morn, then,’ he said with a bow.
Rob let out a breath he had not realised he’d been holding and turned to see where Iain and his friends were gathered. Now, now he could find out what was going on here. A few hours later and some coin lighter, Rob had discovered some interesting bits about the goings-on in the Clan MacKay.
* * *
Rob woke early the next morning and saw to his horses in the stables. Built under the keep, they had their own entrance that faced north and the Kyle of Tongue. A few men nodded in greeting as he made his way back and into the hall where the morning meal would be served.
He held his words all through the meal, never giving any sign that he knew what was actually happening here. A short time later, the laird called for their horses, and he followed Ramsey from the keep, through the main gate and along the water’s edge south. A few of the laird’s men rode with them, and the first part of the ride was pleasant enough.
The MacKay was clearly quite proud of his new keep and the growing village that it protected a short distance to the east. He led them around in a circle that kept the keep in sight at all times. High on its hill, it was visible from the surrounding lands and made an impressive sight.
When they returned to the keep, climbing the hill and reaching a point that gave them a fantastic view of the surrounding kyle and lands, Rob pulled the reins and halted his horse. Ramsey waved his men on and stared at him. Rob could almost feel the man’s growing discomfort as each second passed them by.
‘So, my lord...’ Rob began, watching the laird’s face closely as he spoke. ‘In which direction do you think your daughter headed when she ran way?’
Chapter Three (#ulink_c2dbd8f1-75af-5b14-88a3-558aba10f7ee)
Five days later—near Durness
It had seemed a sound plan at first—run away from her home to give herself time to find her bairn. Run away and avoid this impending marriage. The Mackintosh’s man would have his choice in accepting this arranged marriage or forgoing it, and Eva had planned that the latter should be his choice.
Surely, a man, no man, wanted to marry a reluctant or resistant woman? And if her disappearance shamed or humiliated him, would he not simply ride back to wherever he came from and seek out a willing woman to wife? Eva sighed again.
Shifting on the cold stone floor beneath her, she tried to ease her way back to sitting up. Her ankle and knee protested, sending shards of pain through her body with any movement.
So much for a good idea.
A shiver raced through her whole body then, reminding her of the fever that would not go away. She still bled as well, her body not healed yet from the birth eight weeks before.
Dying would be one answer to her problems. But she would not leave this life until she found out her bairn’s fate. Not yet, she thought, as she shifted her weight to her uninjured hip and tried to pull herself up. Her leg slid on the slippery floor of the cave and she fell hard, forcing the breath from her body in a loud whoosh. Her head hit the wall and, as Eva watched, everything around her grew dark.
* * *
When next she opened her eyes, Eva could see a shape moving in the shadows. A fire burned somewhere close, and a huge creature skulked along the path inside the cave where she’d tried to hide. Oh, Dear God in Heaven! Had she unknowingly fallen into the cave of some dangerous animal? Mayhap if she lay quiet and unmoving, it would not hear her? But shivers racked her body and her teeth chattered so loudly she could hear them.
The dark, fur-covered creature rose up to its full height and turned to where she lay hidden among the rocks. It began to growl and...curse? Her fevered mind could not make sense of how an animal could speak in a human voice, but this one did. As it moved along the path and closer to her, she closed her eyes and prayed.
For forgiveness. For her daughter. For her soul.
All was for naught as the huge figure stood only a few paces away from her and stared at her with eyes filled with the glow of hell itself. Could it be a bear? Nay, they had not been seen in centuries here. Some other mythic creature sent to punish her for her disobedience and other sins? Eva reached up and swept her hair away from her face, squinting into the shadows to see what would be her executioner.
At its first step closer, she shook her head and tried to push herself along the slippery floor. With its second, Eva opened her mouth to scream. It would be the only thing she could do against something of this size and strength. She drew in a breath and brought her daughter to mind in that moment of her own death.
‘Haud yer wheest!’ the creature growled, stopping the coming scream with a hand over her mouth. ‘Every noise echoes in this blasted place!’
A hand? Not a paw or claws? A hand, strong and warm across her mouth and cheeks. Eva blinked as the shape released her mouth and reached for its head.
‘Are you Eva MacKay?’ a man’s voice asked. He pushed back the cloak that covered him, and he leaned forward. ‘Are you?’
‘Aye.’ Her voice barely came out of her scratchy, dry throat.
She’d been found. All her attempts to evade her father’s men were for naught. She would be dragged back now and forced to marry and leave these lands forever.
Eva fell back, giving up the fight. She was so cold and in so much pain that she could not struggle against her fate any longer. The fever that had plagued her since giving birth continued to rise and fall, sapping her strength.
‘Give me your hand,’ the man said. ‘Give it here.’
Glancing at him once again, she could not get a clear view of his face. There was a torch or fire somewhere close, and it threw shadows across the cave and him. One moment, his face looked like that of an angel and the next like a demon. She swallowed against the dryness of her throat and stared at him.
Then, he held out his hand and motioned to her again. Knowing she would never be able to stand on her leg, she shook her head in refusal.
‘Are you naysaying me?’ He crossed his arms over his massive chest and gave her a dark glare. ‘I said, give me your hand.’
‘I cannot stand,’ she whispered in fear of both the pain to come and this man. ‘My foot, my knee, are...’ She pointed to her injured right leg.
The grumbled cursing began anew as he knelt next to her and pushed her cloak aside. His indrawn breath at the trews she wore frightened her, but he ignored everything but her right leg. Lifting it with a gentleness she never expected, he slid his hand over her, pressing lightly around her knee and then on the boot that covered her foot and ankle. She could not help the gasps that escaped with each touch, but she cried out when he squeezed her ankle.
‘Your pardon, my lady,’ he said quietly. Easing her leg back down to the floor, he stood up. ‘I do not think it broken, only bruised badly. But that boot needs to come off so your foot can be seen to.’ The man walked a short distance away, back towards the opening of the cave and turned around as though searching for something. ‘How did this happen?’ he asked.
‘I fell...in,’ she whispered, glancing up at the opening above and behind her.
His words, filled with all sorts of expletives and unimagined insults, shocked her. And yet, they did not match the ease in his manners when he approached once more and crouched next to her.
‘’Tis a wonder you did not kill yourself. Or was that your plan?’
‘Nay!’
Surprised at his boldness, she realised she had no idea of this man’s identity, even though he had clearly been searching for her. Had her father hired mercenaries to keep her disappearance a secret from the clan and from the man coming to marry her? She stared at him, unable to answer his unthinkable query and unwilling to tell him anything.
‘Who are you?’ she asked. Eva pushed back with her arms, trying to sit up to face him. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I come from your father,’ he said with a shrug. ‘But neither of those things are important. A storm is blowing in from the north and this cave will flood very soon. We must get out of here now, for I have no desire to die in a place like this.’ His emphasis on I made it clear what he thought her intentions were.
Spring brought powerful storms as the winter struggled to keep hold of the lands and seas this far north. The man who suggested this place to her had said it was far enough from the sea’s edge to be safe. But now, listening to the sound of approaching waves, she knew the villager had been wrong. If her mouth and throat could grow any drier, they did just then as a wave of choking fear filled her.
‘Come,’ he said once more, reaching for her. ‘Put your hands on my shoulders and let me get you to your feet first.’
This time, she did as he said, reaching up and grabbing hold of his shoulders. He slid his large hands around her at her waist and lifted her, bearing most of her weight as she placed her foot on the floor. When he began to let her stand, her leg gave out and she stumbled. A moment later, she found herself cradled against his chest.
His wide, muscular chest. He barely exerted himself in lifting her. She could feel the strength in his arms as he walked towards the entrance to the cave. As they neared the torch he’d stuck into a crack in the rock wall near the opening, she dared a glance up at his face.
And wished she had not.
The light from the torch caught the auburn in his hair and made it flicker. His brow gathered in a frown that made him look fierce and frightening. His chin and cheeks, not disguised by the beard he wore, seemed carved from the same hard rock of the inside of the cave. She began shivering again and could not control the way her body shook.
‘Are you ill?’ he asked, carrying her towards the steep path that led to the top of the cliff. ‘Christ! You are burning up!’ he growled against her head. The anger in his voice made her tremble.
The fever must be back.
Glancing around, she saw the path she’d not seen when trying to reach the cave. Eva had approached the openings in the ceiling of the cave when she’d slipped and fallen in. The only reason she had not died was that she slid most of the way down, hitting her foot and leg on a large rock as she came to stop on the floor. They reached it, and he stopped.
‘I cannot carry you up this way and I cannot help you walk up. The path is not wide enough for two of us and I will need my hands on the steeper places.’
Her mind was so dulled by pain and fear that Eva could not come up with a solution. Then he began to lower her feet towards the ground.
‘Put your uninjured foot down,’ he directed. When she did, he gripped her waist until she steadied. His next action surprised her. He leaned her against the thick bushes there and removed a long length of tartan from around him. Then crouching before her, he said, ‘Come now, lady. Climb on.’
If she had thought herself confused before, this confirmed it. Her head ached as she tried to determine what he wanted her to do. Her hesitation was noticed, for he turned and motioned to her with his hand, pointing to his back.
‘Carrying you on my back will be safer,’ he explained, moving back until he almost touched her legs. ‘Hold once more on to my shoulders. Lean against me and give me your injured leg first.’
It took her several attempts and so much pain before she could position herself on his back. His touch was gentle as he guided and supported her leg around his waist and held it steady as she lifted her other one. Eva clutched his shoulders until he gave new orders.
‘Slide your arms around me, lady,’ he urged as he stood up. ‘It will be a more secure hold for you.’ She did as he said and she did feel more stable.
He tossed the length of wool around her, pulling it below her and wrapping it snugly around her, tying her to him much as a babe could be worn by a mother. He made several adjustments, uttering vile words when things did not do his bidding. Then, apparently satisfied with her position and the binding holding her there on his back, he took the first step up the path.
Between her exhaustion and pain and the warmth of his very strong body beneath her, Eva found herself drifting off to sleep as he climbed almost effortlessly up the steep trail. She woke to his voice, deep and masculine, calling out curses at the sky as the clouds opened above them. Spring rains were cold and this was just that. Only her head was above the woollen covering to feel it but he was more exposed and was getting soaked.
‘Hold on, lady,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘We are almost at the top.’
He stumbled then and nearly pitched them to the ground, but he somehow regained his balance before they fell. Eva waited for the ear-blistering epithets that she expected would follow his misstep and was surprised when she could hear only his breathing. She began to drift in and out of awareness with each step as the pain flooded her body.
They reached the top and he grunted and stopped. Eva could feel his lungs taking in deep breaths and expelling them hard. As though her body had waited for them to be on level ground and not scrambling up a steep cliff side, the moment he turned his head to look at her and spoke her name, the blackness claimed her.
* * *
Rob felt the moment she lost consciousness. He’d heard every gasp and moan as he’d carried her up the cliff. She probably did not even realise she made such sounds, but he heard each of them. And yet, not once did she utter a word of complaint. Strange, that.
Since she was secure wrapped against him as she was, he untangled the reins of the horse he’d borrowed and led the animal along the main road that led back towards the village of Durness. He’d found a small unused cottage there for his use during this search and he would take her there.
As the winds howled around him now, he wondered no longer why everyone here spoke often about the weather and the storms. The blacksmith had warned him about a coming storm when he asked about borrowing a horse. The innkeeper had, as well. And the miller, when he’d arranged for the cottage on his land. And, as if the mere thought of it made it happen, the rain became a wind-driven tempest, knocking him back and off balance.
Fighting against it, he made his way to the small dwelling and, after tying the horse behind it, Rob took the lady within. Crouching down to sit on the pallet, he untied the woollen fabric and eased her back onto it. He’d not realised how hot she was until he moved her off his back. Touching her cheek with the back of his hand, Rob felt the heat of a fever there and realised the danger of it.
His sister was the healer and she would know immediately what to do. He searched his memory of the times he’d watched her care for kith and kin, whether in the village or when they’d sought refuge in the mountains. Margaret was very succinct in her directions, and he smiled as he heard them in his mind now.
‘Warm the chill. Cool the heat.’
‘Watered ale throughout. Broth when hungry.’
Even a simpleton, or a man, could follow those directions, she’d told him once. He’d laughed then but not now, as the dangers of a fever were too real. Glancing around the cottage at the supplies he’d brought, he knew he did not have enough to last more than this night. Rob had not planned to stay here, only to use it as a place to sleep. After lighting a fire in the small hearth, he knew that now supplies were the most pressing need.
The lady yet slept, so he decided it would be best to go now and fetch the needed items from the village or from the miller. Her garments, the scandalous trews she wore, as well as her cloak and tunic, were soaked through, so Rob knew he must remove them and the short boots she wore, too. He drew his sgian dubh to slice the seam of the boot open so he could take it off without injuring her ankle more than it was.
Rob pressed along the arch of her foot and the curve of her ankle but could find no broken bones. Good. He watched her face to see if she reacted and found none. That could not be a good thing. He untied her cloak and eased it from around her. Her hair, woven into a long braid, was tucked inside her tunic. Placing the cloak near the growing fire to dry, he turned his attention to her garments.
He tried not to notice the womanly curves visible because of those trews. He loosened the ties at her waist and slid them down, finding her shift tucked within. Drawing it down as he moved the trews, it gave her some measure of cover, though he held his breath as he noticed the thin fabric did not truly cover much at all. Then he gathered up the tunic and removed it over her head, lifting her as he eased it off. Another surprise waited for him there.
She’d bound her breasts to play the part of a boy.
Rob frowned at this revelation. She was set against marriage to him so much that she left her home and belongings behind, disguised herself as a boy and hid in a cave, nearly killing herself. She shivered just then, and he knew he must put aside his irritation and sense of insult and deal with all that later.
He would need something to wrap her ankle, so he lifted the thin shift and, with care, sliced one side of the bindings. Tugging them slowly, he removed them and tried not to notice the indentation of her breasts in the fabric. Or notice the way she sighed deeply in her sleep as though his action had brought some kind of relief. Rob moved down to her feet, shaking the strips of linen to separate them.
Her ankle swelled now that it was out of the confines of her boot, so he swaddled it with layers of linen, wrapped snugly but not too tight. He leaned back on his ankles and looked it over when he finished. It would do for now.
The howling winds reminded him of what he needed to do sooner rather than later, so Rob stood and tossed a dry plaid over her still form. He tucked it around her and then gathered what he needed—some coins and a leather sack.
The MacKay had given his leave for Rob to use his name, and it would ease his way once more but a coin or two was even more effective at gaining co-operation and information. He’d found the cave by sprinkling a few palms. Now, he would do what he needed to get the necessary supplies. With a final glance at the woman he hoped would be worth such trouble and embarrassment, he opened the door and stepped out into the storm.
Chapter Four (#ulink_f9f57925-8ffe-5dd0-afcd-1f7e898a719f)
A war waged within her.
The forces of good and evil were surely battling over some prize—her soul mayhap?—leaving her battered and bruised. Every place on her body ached. She could not even lift her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow and eyes. Waves of pain began in her foot and sent tremors through her whole body.
But, she had given birth already. She should not feel this much pain now. Had she not? Or was this all a terrible, dark dream, and she was yet labouring to push her child out?
Nay! Her child, her daughter, was alive. She’d birthed her weeks and weeks ago. Eva struggled to open her eyes. She needed to find her...
‘Hush now, lass.’
The voice came once more. Not a woman’s soft tones but the deep masculine tones of a man. Not her father, surely. She tried to force her eyes open, but they would not obey her.
‘Do not struggle,’ he said. ‘You’ve been ill and need to rest.’ A soft caress of her cheek was followed by something blessedly cool on her brow.
She wanted to offer her thanks, but no words would come out. Eva stopped fighting and let her body and thoughts drift, as he’d said. The next hours and days melded into a blurred time of pain and relief, heat and chill, dreams and emptiness.
When she was hot, cool touches eased it. When she shivered with cold, warmth surrounded her. When she called out in fear, a soothing voice urged her on. On and on, over and over, days blended into nights until suddenly Eva woke. She glanced around to discover she was no longer in the cave she remembered. Lifting her head caused so much dizziness that she did not try it again.
Across the small chamber, the door opened, letting in light and a man. A fresh wind blew through the room, bringing the smells of spring inside and banishing some of the staleness. Her dry throat tightened as she tried to speak. He was next to her in a moment.
‘Here. Try a sip of this before you try to speak. I doubt you have much of a voice left by now.’
He placed a cup at her mouth and lifted her head a tiny bit to help her drink. The watered ale tasted better than any fine wine or spirits she’d ever drunk. After one more sip, he took the cup and she tried to reach for it. When she settled back, Eva looked closely at the man as he moved back and sat on the floor next to the pallet on which she lay.
No kith or kin she remembered. But his face was familiar to her. Something flashed through her mind, a memory of someone or something, then darkness again. Had he been sent by her father to find and bring her back?
‘Who are you?’ she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘What is this place?’
‘I wondered how much you would remember,’ he said. ‘You have been ill for days. I found you in the cave and brought you to this cottage.’ He stared at her, clearly expecting her to remember.
She remembered shadows moving around the cave and something approaching her. A large beast-like creature. Then he’d spoken.
‘I thought you a bear from long-ago times,’ she admitted. ‘I do not remember much else.’
‘I have been called worse, lady,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘You mistook my plaid and furs for the beast.’ He nodded towards the corner where he’d draped several cloaks and then at her, or rather the pallet beneath her where his furs now were. ‘The dirt floor was damp, and I feared it would make you sicker.’
Only then did she realise that she lay naked on those furs! Her garments, even her shift, were gone, and the woollen plaid was her only cover.
‘Your garments were soaked with water and sweat. They are dry now,’ he said, once more nodding to the corner.
Eva had been here for days. She’d been sick and unconscious, and this man had been with her. Who was he?
‘Are you my father’s man?’ she whispered, still not certain of what had happened. She remembered seeking the cave and falling into it. Then...nothing more.
‘He sent me.’
This man held his tongue well, never saying too much. Mayhap he would hold that tongue if she paid him? If he was a hired man and not kin, it was not an insult to offer him coins for his silence.
‘You took care of me and I am grateful. I would know your name,’ she said.
He must have noticed her hoarseness again, for he came closer with the cup. Each sip was like a soothing balm as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. Why was she so hoarse?
‘Rob,’ he said, offering her another sip.
‘I would pay you for your time and service, Rob,’ she said. ‘I have coin.’
He seemed to choke on whatever he wanted to say. Instead, he reached inside his tunic and took out a small flask. After drinking a few mouthfuls of what she thought must be strong spirits, he returned it and looked at her.
‘And to return to your father without you, lady?’
His words were spoken evenly, but there was so much anger within his tone. Nothing in his gaze or manner gave her any clue of the reason for it, so she thought she must have insulted him in some way. When she would have offered words of apology, her body began to fail her. A yawn escaped when she would have spoken instead.
‘You are still weak and need to rest,’ he said, standing now. ‘Sleep. We can speak later.’
In spite of her efforts to prove him wrong, her eyes closed and she lost herself in a deep sleep.
* * *
The lady’s eyes had barely closed before he stormed out of the cottage. He needed some air and some space, or he would have said things he knew he would regret later. He’d learned early in life that words could damage as deeply as the sharpest blade, and he’d sworn not to make the same mistake that his father had.
Rob walked around the cottage, saying all the things he wanted to say to her to himself and adding a few choice words he would never say to a woman. She thought him a mercenary, ready and willing to take whatever coin offered him!
She so wanted to avoid marriage to him that she offered him money to walk away. Even not knowing who he truly was, she’d suggested that money could buy her way out of this.
He turned his face into the winds and closed his eyes. Margaret had warned him about his temper, and he’d fought to keep it under control. But this, this insult burned. Was he again not good enough, not high enough, not close enough to noble blood, for this lady to consider him worthy? Was that why she’d run, with no consideration for her own safety or life? Would marriage to him be such a terrible thing to risk so much?
The storm had blown itself out, its power seeping away as it crossed from the sea onto the land. Now, the sun shone as though it had not been dark and squalling for the last three days. In a way, the rainstorm had served a purpose, for the lady would never have been able to travel in her condition. As it was, she would not be strong enough for at least another two days.
It was one matter to be with her so intimately when she was sick and unconscious. But to be in such small quarters with her awake and staring at him with those sky-blue eyes and that lush mouth would be torture. And knowing what curves lay hidden beneath either her garments or the plaid blanket that covered her made him restless.
And so he walked.
As he passed the door of the cottage, he noticed the young woman approaching along the road. The miller’s daughter had been a godsend to him, seeing to Eva’s more personal needs and care each day.
‘Good morrow, Brita,’ he said. ‘I thank you again for your help.’
‘Good morn, sir,’ she replied with a slight curtsy. ‘I am glad to help the lady. And my father thanks you for your coins.’
‘She was awake for a short while just now. I gave her some ale.’ He walked along with the woman.
‘A good sign, then. The fever has broken. My mam said she will be calling for food very soon now.’ Brita lifted the basket she carried so he could see in it. ‘She said to begin with the broth and then the stew if she keeps it down. There is bread, as well.’
Rob reached out to take the basket for her. She smiled at his offer but shook her head.
‘I can carry it, sir.’
‘I will leave you to your ministrations then, lass,’ he said, stepping out of her way. ‘Call if you have need of help.’
Brita reached the doorway and turned to face him.
‘My mam also sent something more filling along for you, sir. She said a man cannot survive on broth and bread.’
The miller and his wife had been most helpful. Aye, he had paid them well, but they seemed to genuinely want to. With a few exceptions that he needed to send to the village for, they’d provided the food and ale and blankets for the lady. Once they knew she was the MacKay’s daughter, they did whatever he’d asked them to do. Even if they did look askew at a man seeing to her care.
Deciding that a ride might do them both good, Rob told Brita he would return shortly and went to get the horse. He wanted to see the cave in the light of day and see if she’d left anything behind. When she woke next, he had questions for her.
Such as who was the Mairead that she called out for in her fevered state.
* * *
The young woman’s arrival both answered a question that loomed in her mind and allowed her to see to her personal needs without having to ask...him. Brita, as she was called, was the miller’s daughter and had apparently been helping her each day during her illness. The girl had a pleasant way about her and her quiet chatter made things much less embarrassing than they might have been.
Within a short time of waking, Eva found herself washed and in a clean shift. The miller’s wife had sent some broth for her when she felt ready to try it. And a loaf of bread. But Eva had more questions than hunger at this point, so she asked about the man who’d rescued her from the cave and stood as her guard and caretaker these last days.
‘Do you know Rob?’ she asked as Brita helped her to sit. The girl wanted to see to her hair.
‘Nay, lady,’ Brita said as she took the braid and loosened the ties holding it. ‘He is from the MacKay, your father, and brought you here.’
‘So, you’ve not seen him before? Not when my father visits here?’ Eva could not remember even seeing him.
‘Nay, lady. Just when he came to our house a sennight ago.’
‘Last week? He has been here a week?’ Eva found it exhausting just to sit up, so trying to figure out his identity tired her even more.
‘Aye,’ Brita said. ‘He asked to rent this cottage. Said the laird set him to the task of finding you.’
She sat in silence as the girl tended to her hair. She desperately needed to wash it, but just having it brushed was a pleasure. Brita finished the tasks she’d been sent to carry out and curtsied when she was leaving. She stopped at the door, just before opening it.
‘My mam said you should know that your bleeding stopped two days ago. She was the first one to tend to you, lady.’ The girl’s face filled with a blush as she said such a thing. ‘She said she thought you would want to know.’
Eva smiled and nodded, feeling both relief and sorrow. The fever and bleeding had been happening together since she’d given birth. Fearing childbed fever and death, Eva knew it had continued too long. But her mother had refused to speak of the birth at all, so there had been no one she could seek advice from. Everyone at Castle Varrich had been forbidden to speak to her about those months she’d spent away, visiting kin in the west was the explanation.
Brita left, and Eva remained sitting up, leaning against the wall with several blankets behind her. Rob would return shortly, according to the girl, and it would do her good to move a bit. But, she feared the first time she would put her weight on her injured ankle. Even now, wrapped tightly, it throbbed from just moving it around as she washed and dressed.
A few minutes later, the door opened and he walked in.
The first thing she noticed was that his auburn hair was windblown and wild. She must be feeling better if she was taking in such details now. He seemed more alive than when he’d left. He pushed the door, and she heard the latch catch.
‘I found this in the cave,’ he said, tossing the small bag to her. He was angry. Again.
She opened it and found the few things she’d managed to take with her when she’d run off in the middle of the night. A small purse filled with coins. A small sgian dubh made to fit a woman’s hand. A comb. An extra shift. Her prayer beads. And the skin of water she carried.
‘You left the safety of your father’s keep with only this?’ he asked. ‘What was so terrible that you would risk your life to get away?’ His hands fisted and released, and she could feel waves of ire pouring off him. ‘Why did you run?’
Something was terribly wrong here. If she’d suspected it before, Eva knew it now. This man had no right to speak to her like this. Or to be in the same chamber as she. Or to demand help and supplies on behalf of her father. Who was he?
A sick feeling roiled through her stomach then. It had nothing to do with her illness and everything to do with the man standing before her.
If he’d been paid to do this by her father, he would have sent word for someone to come for her in her condition. A mercenary would not even worry over her illness, he would be paid for finding her.
A mercenary would not give a moment’s thought to why she’d run or what she’d taken. He would not have done most of the things this man had in caring for her.
A sinking feeling filled her, and she could feel the blood draining from her face and head. It took all of her courage to ask the question that now spun out in the space between them, but she must. The answer, which she suspected she already knew, would explain so much.
‘You are not my father’s man.’ She asked, her voice trembling with each word, ‘You are the Mackintosh’s counsellor and cousin, are you not?’
He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. If his face grew any darker with anger, it would explode.
‘Robert Mackintosh,’ he said as though introducing himself to her for the first time. ‘Your betrothed husband.’
She gasped at his declaration. ‘Betrothed?’ she asked, shaking her head wildly. ‘We were not betrothed.’
‘Aye, lady, we were. Your father and I signed the documents before he gave me his blessing and sent me off to look for his runaway daughter.’
‘Nay!’ she cried out, trying to get to her feet in spite of her injuries and continued weakness. ‘I cannot marry you. You cannot force this on me!’
He took her by her arms and pulled her up to him, their faces but inches apart. He stared at her, searching there for something.
‘In the eyes of the Church and by the laws of this land, we are married, lady. The vows can be spoken when we return to Castle Varrich. The rest can wait until we arrive in Glenlui.’
The rest? The rest! Eva would never share with any man what she’d given to Eirik.
She balled up her hands and pushed against his chest with them, trying to force herself free. He simply held her tighter, giving her no chance to get away. Because he was so much taller and stronger than she was, her feet did not even touch the ground.
‘You do not understand,’ she began to plead. ‘I cannot marry you. I...’
‘Are you pledged to someone else already?’ he demanded. ‘Tell me why you cannot marry me.’
She could not reveal the truth to him. Her father would be furious if she continued to fight this marriage. He was the only one who knew where her baby was and, if she did not do as told, the wee bairn would pay the price. Ramsey MacKay was a cold-hearted and ruthless man when it came to getting his own way. No one opposed him—not his wife, his daughter, his kith or kin—and not suffer for such defiance.
‘And tell me who Mairead is,’ he said, in a quiet but no less dangerous voice. ‘Who is she?’
He could have hit her and it would not have hurt as much as hearing her daughter’s name on his lips. The shock rippled through her and in the next moment, as he called out her own name, Eva fainted.
Chapter Five (#ulink_e2a34505-8383-5070-992e-705e919e5909)
‘Eva!’
Rob swore aloud, but she did not even react to the coarse words he’d said. The mention of that name had caused this. Her eyes had been glaring at him one moment and then they rolled up into her head the next. Cursing her, her father, her mother, his friend and anyone else he could bring to mind in that second, Rob carried her to the pallet and laid her there, being careful of her injured leg and foot.
She did not rouse. He tapped on her cheek, saying her name in as calm a tone as he could, but there was no sign of her coming around. Stalking as far away from her as he could get within the cottage, he watched her.
Bloody hell! Damn this woman to perdition!
She’d run from him. Refused to marry him. Worse, she placed herself in immeasurable danger because of her wilfulness. It was a miracle he’d found her in that cave before the storm blew in and flooded it. It was a miracle that she had not been attacked by ruffians or outlaws in the forests and on the roads between her father’s keep and this place. A miracle.
He let out a loud breath then, releasing some of the pent-up anger within him. Walking back to her side, he knelt down and touched her cheek. Thank the Almighty—no fever. When she did not move or wake, he sought out the cloth and water and touched the rag to her head and cheeks and then along her neck. Rob repeated it several times before her eyes began to flutter open.
Rob brought over the cup of ale and held it out when she looked at him. Without a word, she pushed up to lean on her elbows and took the cup. She averted her gaze and sipped several times before handing it back to him. As he watched, those blue eyes filled with tears that began to spill down her cheeks. The lady turned away, tucking her face into the pillow and sobbing silently.
He felt sick to his stomach. He’d wanted to force a reaction from her and he got one, just not the one he was hoping for. He wanted truth, but realised he’d lied to her from the first, too. Oh, his words about their betrothal were true, for he’d made certain she was his before setting out. Now he wondered over the wisdom of his course of action.
And still she cried. The sound of it was filled with despair and grief, and it shook him in a way he did not wish to acknowledge. At least not the part he played in it. Standing, he sought out the basket of food and took out the broth and bread from Brita’s mother. He poured some in a cup and placed it to warm near the flames. A glance over his shoulder told him that her weeping eased a bit.
He carried on preparing the food, not ignoring her, God, there was no way to do that, but just trying to allow her some time. Finding the meat pie wrapped in cloth, he placed it in a bowl and broke it apart with a spoon. It took its place next to her broth, warming slowly there. Soon, the enticing aroma of the food wafted through the cottage. His own stomach growled in anticipation of the taste, for Brita’s mother, Helga, was a superb cook.
Testing the heat of both the cup and bowl, Rob removed them and placed them on the small stool he’d been using as a table next to her. He tore two chunks of bread from the loaf and put them there, too. After watering some ale for her, he filled his cup with the stronger spirits from his flask. And then he sat down, cross-legged, waiting for her own hunger and thirst to bring her there.
It did not take long.
He tried to focus on his food, but he could not help but watch her. First she leaned up and found the damp rag and used it on her eyes and face. Using the edge of the plaid to dry herself, she pushed up to sit, her breathing yet ragged and loud. Rob sensed that helping her now would cause her to crumble again, so he waited for her to move or to ask for help.
She would not meet his gaze. Even when she managed to sit up and lean against the wall, she would not look at him. He did not force her to, he only slid the table closer so she could reach the cup, if she wanted it. And, after a few minutes of laboured breathing, she did. Rob tore the chunks of bread into smaller pieces and moved them closer.
They ate in an awkward and yet somehow companionable silence. It took her some time to finish just the cup of broth, but she did, dipping some of the bread in it to sop up the liquid. He did the same with the meat pasty—a hearty mix of chunks of beef and root vegetables and broth. Helga was unsurpassed in her dishes, no matter that he’d eaten at palaces and castles of the noble and the royal kind over the last few months.
The lady placed her empty cup on the stool and leaned back, tugging the plaid higher and holding it against her. As he watched, her eyes closed and he knew she was almost asleep. A shiver brought her to wakefulness.
‘Your tunic is dry now, if you are chilled,’ he offered.
‘The furs keep me warm enough,’ she whispered back.
He jutted his chin. ‘Then go to sleep. My sister says it’s the best thing for most illnesses.’
‘You have a sister?’ she asked, leaning away from the wall and sliding herself down under the blankets.
‘You do not have to say it with such disbelief in your voice. Aye, I have a sister. Margaret. She serves the clan as a healer at Glenlui.’
‘I meant no disrespect, sir,’ she offered. ‘I know nothing about you or the Mackintoshes.’ She spoke with closed eyes and each word came out slower than the one before it. She was falling asleep in the middle of a conversation.
‘Then none is taken. Sleep, lady. We will have time to talk.’
And she was gone, deeply asleep in moments.
Rob stood and cleaned up from their meal, going out to wash the cups, bowl and spoons with water from the bucket outside. The sun had set and the air grew chilled. He closed the door tightly and dropped the latch and then did the same thing with the wooden shutters to keep out the winds.
Soon, the cottage was prepared for the night...but he was not. After adding some more peat to the fire, he lit a few candles and picked up her sack. Surely, there must be more inside than just the few items he’d seen when he opened it at the cave.
Sitting on the floor near her, he turned the sack inside out and watched as the few things fell before him.
A small sgian dubh, more suited for eating or mending tasks than for defence or attack. And she did not wear it in her boot where she could reach it quickly.
A leather purse holding some gold and silver coins. Not enough to live on for long, but enough to present a temptation to any thief along the road.
Another shift.
A set of prayer beads, carved out of some black stones. Well, she might appreciate the book he’d brought for her if she was a godly woman. But a godly woman knew her place and obeyed her father and then her husband. Eva MacKay did not know the first thing about obedience or her proper place if what she’d done so far was the measure used.
Rob laid the things aside and shook his head, watching her sleep there. What kind of woman would run away when given the news of an impending marriage? Especially a marriage that would hold benefits for both families involved.
She shifted on the furs and mumbled some words in her sleep. Though he could blame some of her restlessness in sleep on her illness and fever, she never seemed to be at peace when she slept. She called out names, mostly the one, throughout the time when sleep claimed her.
Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
If she did not know him or the Mackintoshes, then they could not be the reason for her refusal to accept the marriage. Yet, she did the unthinkable and left the safety and protection of her father’s keep to avoid it. Was it just maidenly fear or something more? Though clearly fear was not something that seemed to rule her life if she was brave enough to do what she’d done.
Rob stared at her, trying to decipher her actions and her intentions. If she did not want to marry him and had a good reason for her objections—one that would satisfy Brodie and Arabella—he would see that the betrothal was broken. He’d not expected a love match at all, but he would be damned before he married an unwilling woman.
If she would only explain herself...
The winds howled then, rattling the wooden walls of the cottage and sending cool air through the cracks. The low flames of the peat fire danced in the current. It would grow much colder before the sun rose in the morn.
Eva shivered then, curling herself into a tight ball under the blankets. He was tempted to wake her and give her the tunic she’d refused earlier, but he would not disturb whatever rest she could get. On the morrow, he would send word to her father that he’d found her, and they would begin the journey back to Castle Varrich a day or two after that.
For now, he did what he’d done these last three nights—he took off his boots and tunic and lay down next to her, sharing his body’s warmth with her. She startled a moment and then moved back nearer to him, as she did each time he shared the pallet with her. Then he pulled the extra blanket over both of them.
Although she sank into a deep sleep, it evaded him for hours. The riddle that Eva MacKay was haunted him all night. At some moment, he realised that she was awake next to him. So, he decided to ask her for her reasons.
‘Have you need of anything, lady?’ he asked first. ‘Do you thirst?’ Helga had told him he should give her as much to drink as possible.
‘Nay,’ she whispered back.
Silence reigned for a long minute or two before she spoke again.
‘You have slept like this each night, then?’ she asked.
‘Aye.’ Then he explained further, ‘At first there was no sleeping, you were that ill with fever. Then, I found that you were cold more than hot, so lying this way seemed to keep you warm.’
‘And you knew of the betrothal, so there was nothing wrong in the eyes of God or the law in doing that.’ Her words were more a declaration than a question, but there was something buried within them.
‘Just so.’
The lady began to say something more but paused and held her words behind her teeth. A minute later, she did the same thing—began and paused. When she did it for a third time, he spoke instead.
‘Just speak your mind, lady. Between us. Tell me what you wish to say.’
‘I mean no insult, sir. I have no intention to embarrass or insult your laird and chief. I just cannot marry you.’ He could hear her trying to remain calm and failing as her voice hitched on the words.
‘Is there someone else, lady?’ he asked. ‘Or do you have some other objection? Give me some reason that I can understand, for I have no wish to marry an unwilling bride.’ And he did not.
‘I cannot marry you,’ she repeated.
‘Mayhap if you’d remained in your father’s house and discussed this before the betrothal, we could have made an agreeable arrangement. Now, though...’ he said.
‘Nay, pray do not say it is too late now?’ she asked, turning to face him. The grimace of pain told that she’d forgotten that injury in moving.
‘The betrothal is legal and sound. I fear it is too late.’
Rob waited, waited for tears, waited for angry words, waited for some emotional reaction from her. None came. All he heard was the sound of her ragged breathing. Once more she turned away from him, tucking her face into the pillow.
* * *
A thought occurred to him in the night some time later, as they both yet lay awake in the dark.
He’d not wanted this marriage. She wanted it not. So, why would he force this? It spoke of a disaster in the making. And problems and conflicts every step of the way. He would not even have a marriage of convenience, he would have a marriage of catastrophe.
‘I will speak to your father when we return. ’Tis clear to me that we do not suit. My laird will offer suitable compensation for breaking the betrothal contract and handle the issue.’
‘Truly?’ she asked, her voice now filled with hope. And that stung worse than any of her words so far.
‘Aye. I want no unwilling wife.’
Then silence filled the cottage, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire or burst of wind outside. He thought she might have fallen asleep as he still tried to do.
‘I thank you, sir. I will always be grateful for the mercy and good will you have shown me when you have every right to treat me otherwise,’ she whispered.
Again, her words stung him. However, he’d spoken the truth. It would be easier to return to her father and his laird with a specific reason for breaking the contract, but Rob knew Brodie would have his back in this...or in anything he asked him to.
He rolled to his side and found himself drifting to sleep.
* * *
At some time in those last few hours before dawn, she turned to him and he slipped his arm over her, drawing her closer. He drifted in and out of sleep until the sound of swords being drawn got his attention.
Opening his eyes, he found Ramsey MacKay and six of his warriors standing around the pallet where he and Eva lay.
Where the MacKay’s daughter lay naked in the arms of her betrothed husband. Where Eva MacKay sighed his name before opening her eyes to find her father standing above them.
Her reaction—a loud, shrill scream that filled the cottage and made him squint—was something Rob could understand. But it was the MacKay’s soft words that bothered him more.
‘Well, I guess ye have no objections to taking my daughter as yer wife after all, Mackintosh. Welcome to the family.’
Chapter Six (#ulink_3ca94c7c-f7ab-5d91-aa73-d0319972f358)
The door to her chambers slammed open and the maid helping her with her bath let out a shriek. With a nod of his head, her father ordered the maid out and closed the door behind her. Eva knew there would be a reckoning, and it appeared to be at hand.
‘You are quite bold for someone with so much to lose,’ he said quietly. Too quietly. ‘I told you what would happen if you did not do as I said. ’Tis the little bastard who will pay for your sins, daughter. All I have to do is send the word, and she will die.’
Eva grasped the sides of the tub, unable to breathe or reply.
He stood next to the large wooden tub and glared at her. There was no way to hide herself or to leave the tub. Her ankle was much improved but would not hold her weight yet. So, she was trapped here until he left and the maid returned.
‘’Tis a good thing he is willing to overlook your disobedience and stupidity and wilfulness,’ he began. ‘And a good thing he does not know you are nothing but a lying, ungrateful slut who does not know when to keep her mouth or her legs closed.’
She made the mistake of opening her mouth then, determined to find out what he’d done with her child, but he slapped her with the back of his hand. Her head bounced back against the side of the tub.
‘God knows, I have been too lenient with you. ’Tis your mother’s fault—she coddled you and allowed you too much say,’ he said, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her over the side of the tub. Unable to stand, she tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her arm and pushed her to the floor.
‘You dare demand that I tell you what you want to know? You dare threaten to reveal it to the Mackintosh’s man if I do not?’ He held her down with one strong hand on her back, and she could not move from his hold.
‘Mayhap if you’d been strapped well when I found out about that boy and what you’d been doing, you would have lost it and saved me such trouble.’ Only then did she see the long leather strap in his hand.
Eva tried to grab for some covering, but she was too far from the bed and from the stool where the drying cloths lay. He did not wait before striking her, laying it hard on her back and buttocks. She screamed against such pain, but it had no effect on him.
‘I have him where I want him. You will not speak of this to him,’ he said in a lower voice. ‘Or your child will not live to see the first anniversary of her birth.’
The threat took away her breath then, against Mairead and against Rob. She tried to bear it in silence but could not and screamed with each blow. Four lashes delivered with a heavy hand and he’d reared back to hit her again, when the door opened. Already out of breath, her father called out over his shoulder rather than stop.
‘I’m seeing to my daughter. Get out now,’ he called.
‘She is my wife.’
Rob.
Eva could only curl up in a ball there on the floor. The pain in her back and her buttocks took her breath away.
‘Then learn from my mistakes, Mackintosh. She needs to be taught obedience. She only understands the strap. Used often and used well.’ Her father swung once more, wrenching another cry from her.
Eva wanted to die then. Humiliated before the man who would control her life, she could not raise her head to look at him. It seemed that every time he came into her life, she was helpless. Now, worse than helpless, for she was naked on the floor being beaten by her father.
‘Then I will see to it,’ he said to her father.
The tension in the chamber heightened as she waited to see what her father would do. Ramsey MacKay was not used to interference with his wishes or to being ordered about, so she held little hope that he would cease now. Eva dared a glance to see what would happen.
‘I agreed to the betrothal. I agreed to the marriage. She is mine, to do with as I please and no longer under your authority, MacKay. Or do I tell Brodie Mackintosh that you reneged on the contract?’
When she dared to peek, Rob had crossed his arms over his chest in a frightful pose. His face grew dark and threatening, and Eva was not certain who was most in danger: her or her father. She shivered at the sight.
‘Very well,’ her father said, relenting. He tossed the strap to Rob and crossed the room to the door. Staring at her, he began, ‘Do not allow her disobedience to go unanswered. You will rue the day you did not make certain she knows who is in control of her.’
Eva dipped her head again, unable to look at his face and see his hatred of her. She cried now, unable to control her tears in the face of the pain and humiliation.
‘Give me your hand,’ Rob said.
‘Please, I pray you leave,’ she whimpered.
‘I said give me your hand.’
Eva pushed herself up and held out her hand as he’d ordered. Her hair dripped on the floor and was a tangled mess over her face and shoulders. It was long but not long enough to hide the rest of her from his sight. She was not certain what he planned to do, for he had reason to continue the punishment for her sins against him.
He took her hand and then helped her to her feet, careful to keep her weight on one foot. Then he lifted her up and carried her to the tub. Placing her in the still-warm water, he stepped away, never looking at her. Eva held herself away from the side of the tub, not resting back now, but hugging her knees.
‘I will send your maid to you so you can finish your bath, lady,’ he said. ‘We will speak our vows before the evening meal and leave in the morning.’
She nodded, surprised at his gentle touch and treatment.
‘I have to say I am confused.’ He reached for the latch on the door and turned back to face her. ‘You want to refuse marriage to me and remain here with your father, knowing what will happen to you. What would keep you here, Eva, rather than taking the chance with a man who has done nothing to harm you? I think it must be something very important indeed.’
He paused then, and she wanted to tell him. She wanted to explain that this had nothing to do with him. That she needed to be here to seek out her daughter before her father moved her so far from her reach that she would never find her. The words were there—she owed him at least that. She struggled to keep the words within her. Eva just could not take the chance that her father would hurt her child...as he already had Eirik.
She looked down at the water that swirled around her and said nothing.
When she looked up, he was gone. Shuddering from the pain and humiliation, Eva rocked in the water. Her father would kill her daughter, she doubted it not. But what had he meant about Rob?
She remembered Rob’s promise to end this betrothal, a promise made in the dark of night just before her father had found them. However, with her lying naked and next to him on the pallet, there was no way to talk their way out of it. The marriage was a fait accompli because of those circumstances, with the witnesses and those who would swear to what they’d seen.
And the villagers who would tell that Rob had cared for her for days alone.
Had Ramsey MacKay arranged it all, then? To trap Rob into having no choice? For surely a report back to his laird that he’d compromised the MacKay’s daughter would result in the marriage going forward. No MacKay would speak to an outsider about last year’s incident and her disappearance for several months. A bit of hysterical laughter escaped her then, echoing around the chamber.
It would not surprise her at all, for he was a master at manipulation and deceit.
A soft knock on the door warned her of her maidservant’s arrival. The girl approached slowly and then gasped.
‘Oh, my lady,’ she said. ‘Let me get some ointment for your back,’ Nessa said. ‘And a cool cloth for your face.’
Her face was the least of it, with her back and buttocks burning in pain from his blows. She accepted the cloth and held it to her face as Nessa saw to her injuries.
Did she have any choice in this at all? If she spoke of it to Rob, her father would deny it and punish her through her daughter. If Rob backed out of the contract over it, there could even be war between their clans, or the Mackintosh could seek retribution in some other way.
And what of her daughter’s fate?
Her father had sworn that she was some place safe and would be raised well. Eva might never see her again, but she would be safe. Mayhap that was the price she would have to pay for her sins?
Running away had not worked. Eva was in exactly the same position she’d tried to avoid by escaping her father.
Seeking her daughter on her own had not worked. Her heart broke as she knew she’d failed.
Trying to protect the man she loved from her father’s wrath had been a terrible mistake and had ended horribly, a cost her soul must bear forever.
Eva hissed when Nessa washed her back, no matter that the girl had a light touch in the task. The pain brought her back to her predicament.
‘Just see to my hair now, Nessa,’ she said. ‘You can see to those when I dress.’
As the efficient maid washed her hair, Eva faced the unspeakable realisation that her only way out of this was to protect her daughter. She would have to take her father’s word that he would not harm Mairead if she did as he ordered. And it meant forcing the Mackintosh’s man into a marriage he did not want.
Between the devil and the deep sea, Eva made her decision in that moment.
* * *
After shaving and dressing in his finest shirt and plaid, Rob strode down to the hall, needing something to drink after the scene in Eva’s chambers. His hands shook in fury as the image of Ramsey taking a strap to Eva repeated in his mind. He wanted to strangle the man for such a callous act. Especially now that Eva was Rob’s.
He stopped. Buffeted by the servants and others in the corridor who were not expecting him to do so, he leaned against the wall, out of the way.
When the hell had he decided she was his?
Thinking back over the last days, Rob realised that when he’d rescued her from the cave and took her to the cottage, he began to accept the idea of it. That was why her pleading words to escape him bothered him so much.
The idea of being forced in to marriage had angered and repelled him at first. Just as it clearly had Eva.
It took him the weeks of travel here to begin to accept it as his fate. Eva had not.
It took days for him to accept her. From what he’d just witnessed and heard...and not heard, it would take her much longer, if she ever would.
Yet, in spite of his actions and treatment of her and in spite of her father’s, she seemed disinclined to marry him.
Had she set her sights higher, then?
As the reality struck him and the old wounds of pride surfaced, he knew he needed a drink. He pushed off the wall and made his way to the hall. Expecting something to mark the occasion of the wedding of the laird’s daughter, instead he found the hall as it had been during other meals.
Although he would sit at the high table, he searched for a servant and asked for something stronger than either the ale or wine he usually drank. He drank the first bit down and held out the cup for more...and twice more. He waved the man away then, for a drunken groom would just give wagging tongues something else to pass around.
Rob moved aside and watched as the hall filled and the priest arrived. The portly man almost waddled as he walked, making his way to the table at the front of the hall and greeting several MacKays along his path. From what Rob could see, the priest seemed good-natured and well liked among those here. When the lord and lady arrived and took their seats, he knew it was time, both to make his way there and to take this step that would change his life forever.
The laird greeted him and introduced him to Father Darach before sitting and motioning for them to sit. The lady conversed quietly with the priest at her side and the laird nodded to those at this and the other tables.
Nothing in his words or manners gave any sign of the scene above stairs a short time ago. No clue to what the man truly felt or was about. Rob’s gut told him something was going on here, but outwardly all seemed well enough. When silence filled the room, he looked up and saw that everyone’s gaze was turned to the stairway in the corner.
Eva MacKay had arrived in the hall.
He was on his feet before he knew it and on his way to escort her before he could think of it. A blank expression momentarily changed as their eyes met, and Rob watched as surprise gave way to a glimmer of fear. Even that disappeared and the neutral countenance was back in place.
Rob stopped several paces from her and took his first true look at the woman who was his bride. The simple but elegant gown outlined her lush curves, and he noticed the way her long, unbound hair fell over her breasts and ended just above her hips. His mouth went dry even while his palms grew sweaty. Her hair was pulled away from her face with only a few curling tendrils outlining her face, and the graceful lines in her jaw and neck were revealed to him.
This woman before him was new to him.
Not the runaway disguised as a boy.
Not the ill woman, pale and wan.
The only signs of her recent illness or injury were the dark circles beneath her ice-blue eyes and the limp.
The limp. He strode to her side and bowed.
‘Lady Eva,’ he began. ‘Should you be walking on that ankle without help?’
A blush rose in her cheeks, giving her more colour than he’d seen there before. Even when she sat naked in her bath. Rob tried to forget the images of her creamy skin and feminine curves as he offered his arm to her now. How she had managed to make it this far, he knew not, but he knew she was trembling and in pain. Far more than just her ankle now.
Though he’d tried not to look at her back when he’d stormed into the room at the sound of her screams, he had. It was all he could do not to tear Ramsey MacKay apart with his bare hands. The welts were wide and deep.
‘Here,’ he said, placing his arms behind her with a care to those areas struck and lifting her from her feet.
She did not resist him. She did not say anything. Eva just sat in his arms, unmoving, as he carried her forward. If he was not mistaken, some of the women watching sighed as they passed. Although done for another reason, if it would smooth things over, that was good, too.
Rob stopped near the table and placed her on her feet, never letting go of her completely. He nodded to the priest who walked towards them and then glanced down at the woman at his side.
And in that moment, he realised his life was about to change in ways he probably could not even dream of. More than his decision to support Brodie. More than his work or position in the clan now that they had been successful and ended the threat to it.
More than any step he’d taken in his life up to this moment.
So why was his gut telling him to turn and walk away?
Chapter Seven (#ulink_5254ff16-56b9-57ab-8341-2314d5dc74c8)
For whatever reason, the priest’s words about their marriage contract eased his concerns. Rob listened to the details of the agreement reached between the MacKay and Brodie and calmed with each bit spoken. He’d not known about her dowry or the amount Brodie was giving him until the priest said it, and the wealth he would gain surprised him.
Any sane man would leap at the chance to take Lady Eva MacKay to wife.
Any sane man...
The silence startled him, and Rob realised they waited on his words. His vow. Words that would tie him—body, soul and possessions—to the woman who stood at his side now.
Who stood trembling at his side.
Rob glanced down, now noticing the paleness of her face and the way she held her mouth closed tightly. And how she shook as she waited on him to speak. Did she harbour a hope that he would yet disavow this arrangement?
He opened his mouth and spoke the words the priest had asked for—I will.
I will, a second time.
And then, the words he’d always imagined he’d speak at some point in his life, but not now and never in this way.
‘I, Robert Alexander Mackintosh, take you, Eva MacKay, as my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.’
Father Darach turned to Eva and waited, even as Rob did, for her response. Rob did not dare to look at her, but he felt the shudder that tore through her then and wondered if this would be the moment when she refused him. When the moment expanded to several seconds, he thought it might be.
‘I...’ she began, so low that he doubted anyone but he could hear her. ‘I...’
Eva pulled against his hold, trying to move away, though with her injured ankle and foot, she would never be able to do so. When he did glance at her, he recognised the expression in her eyes—sheer and utter panic. That turned into terror when her father took a step in their direction.
‘Courage now, lass,’ he whispered, sliding his arm back around her. ‘You surely have faced greater dangers these last weeks than anything you face from me.’
Why he’d felt the need to assure her, he knew not, but one look at her haunted eyes and he’d been unable to stop himself. Something terrified her. Something or someone. As he motioned for her father to step back, Rob suspected the latter. And it seemed more than just the simple strapping her father delivered.
It took a few more seconds before she stood up straighter and nodded at Father Darach. Another second and she began to repeat the words he offered her, giving her consent to this marriage. Rob let out the breath he’d been holding as she did so. Not many could hear her words, but her voice grew stronger with each word. Then it was her turn to say the words that would join them.
‘I, Eva Morag MacKay, take you, Robert Alexander Mackintosh, as my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and obey, till death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.’
Father Darach nodded and smiled at them and then held out the prayer book where Rob had earlier placed his mother’s wedding ring. Brodie had offered to have one made, but Rob wanted his wife, any wife of his, to wear the one his mother had worn when she’d pledged her heart and life to his father. Rob eased his arm away from Eva and took the ring before turning to face her. She did not resist when he took her hand in his and held the ring above her fourth finger.
‘With this ring, I thee wed,’ he said, watching her face as he slid the ring onto her finger. Moving it a bit lower with each phrase, he continued, ‘With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’
As those around them raised their hands to bless themselves and the priest declared them by their words and consent husband and wife, Rob watched as the terror and fear left her face. But instead of whatever emotion he thought to see there, he saw an expression of abject hopelessness in her eyes. She closed her fingers into a fist and looked away, staring into the distance as tears trickled down her cheeks.
Shocked by it, he could not feign joy when the MacKay and his wife approached to offer their felicitations or when Father Darach made some comment about nervous brides. Nor when they went to their seats and cups were raised in their honour. He drank deeply of the cup of rich, red wine and held it to be filled again.
Servants poured out of the kitchens and pantry to carry platters of food to the table. Within minutes, every sort of delicacy and treat sat before him...and his new bride. But every bit he put in his mouth tasted like dirt. Eva, he noticed, took little to eat, but also finished her cup of wine.
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