Dangerous Pride (14 page)

Strange, he thought, as he followed Rory into the battlements, his friend having sensed his need to be alone with his thoughts. It wasn’t Elizabeth or Calum who intruded upon his thoughts most often, in spite of what they had done to his life, and the lives of those he cared about.  It was a tall, slender girl with gleaming auburn hair and eyes the color of emeralds.  As a lass, she’d shown the potential to be a tremendous beauty.  He could only imagine the woman she’d become.

But there was naught to do about that now, he decided, shaking himself from his idle thoughts.  He reached for his sword, ready to begin training with his men.  Wherever the lass was, he wished her well, but for now, he knew he needed to focus his efforts on making sure his people were prepared to deal with whatever ill Calum Leslie sent their way.

Their lives might well hang in the balance.

Lachlan stretched his long legs in front of the fire, savoring the warmth it spread throughout his exhausted, tense body.  The blue-orange glow of the flames was reflected in his glass of French brandy, which he swirled absentmindedly, warming the rich amber liquid with his hands.  Scottish winters were fierce, and this one was no exception.  Spring was near, but winter was unlikely to loosen its grip without a final storm or two.  That very day snow had blanketed the entire keep, covering every crofthouse and building.  Though it would melt before long, he knew many of his people were shivering that night, not enjoying the warmth and comfort that many in his household had come to take for granted.

With any luck, the cold weather would dampen the enthusiasm of the reivers who had made life so difficult of late.  The minor skirmishes between the neighboring clans had continued to escalate, and had reached the point where Lachlan knew something more had to be done.  He had sent runners with polite inquiries to the Earl of Seafield, requesting an audience to discuss issues of import between the clans, but each of his missives had been rejected out of hand. “Stubborn old fool,” Lachlan muttered under his breath.  “Does he no’ ken that more blood will be shed between our clans if naught is done to ease the strife?”

A hesitant cough from the door pulled Lachlan from his thoughts.  Tam, one of the lads who helped with various chores in the household, stood expectantly in the doorway, awaiting his laird’s permission to enter the room.  “Yes, Tam?” Lachlan asked, hurriedly draining the rest of his brandy.  From the look on Tam’s face, their discussion wouldn’t be a pleasant one.

“Sorry tae be interruptin’ ye, laird, but there’s a visitor tae the keep who wishes tae see ye.”

“Did he give you a name, Tam?” Lachlan wondered gently, trying hard to supress his smile.  As hard as Lachlan tried to befriend the lad, the boy was intimidated to near muteness every time he was in his laird’s presence.

Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, Tam finally found his tongue.  “It’s an Ogilvy, laird.  He said tae tell ye his name is Iain.  His horse is in a lather – I seen it with me own eyes.  He musta rode hard tae get here.”

“Iain?  Here at Tolquhon?  What in the devil could bring him here?”  Lachlan hadn’t heard from his friend in months.  The last word he’d had was that Iain had achieved a reconciliation of sorts with his father, and was representing the Earl’s shipping interests at various ports along the eastern coast of Scotland.  His sudden arrival at Tolquhon did not bode well.

“Show him in immediately, Tam, and ask him if he would like aught to eat.  I’m sure Mairi can find him something.” Lachlan’s orders were issued distractedly, his mind sifting through the myriad of possibilities for Iain’s visit.

Nodding quickly, Tam backed out of the room, stumbling over his feet a time or two as he made his way down the corridor to the great hall. Lachlan had little time to reflect on his friend’s unexpected visit before a booming voice caught his attention.

“If I did no’ ken better, I’d say life was treating you verra well, indeed,” Iain called out as he made made his way to the fireplace to warm himself.  Lachlan grimaced inwardly at the wet trail Iain’s boots left across the room’s expensive carpet, but was too pleased with his friend’s appearance to complain.  Lachlan met him with a warm hug, clapping him firmly across the back before he stepped back to examine his friend more closely.

“You do no’ look like yer suffering yerself, Iain.  Though I did no’ believe I would live to see the day when you would be dressed like an English dandy.”

Iain’s pale cheeks flushed for a moment, but Lachlan wisely chose not to draw attention to his friend’s embarrassment. Iain was dressed in tight, fawn-covered breeches, highly polished leather boots and a dark brown jacket.  The heavy cloak he’d worn as protection from the elements was quickly thrown over the back of a chair to be dried by the heat of the fire.

“Not all of us have legs so bonny they do the plaid a  service,” Iain laughed, stretching his arms in front of the fire to warm himself.  “I rode like the devil to get here, you ken, and I would thank you if you would at least show a wee bit of gratitude.”

Lachlan chuckled, handing his friend a glass of brandy as he settled himself in a comfortable chair, gesturing for Iain to do the same. “It’s good to see you again, my friend, no matter what brought you.  It has been too long since we have seen yer face at Tolquhon.  The last word I had from you was when you were in Edinburgh, and that was several months ago.”

Iain took a long drink of the brandy, pausing to savor its heady flavor.  “Aye, it’s been too long, Lachlan – yer right about that.  My father is working me to the bone, though I canna complain, because it keeps me away from Boyne.  I have no stomach for the constant battling there.”

The wry smile on Iain’s face made him appear older and more world-weary than Lachlan remembered.  Though slighter of build than his friend, Iain was a strong, braw man.  Unlike Catriona, his hair was light blond, and his eyes were pale brown.  It was a combination that seemed to be appealing to women, Lachlan admitted grudgingly.

After gesturing to have his glass refilled, Iain picked up the thread of conversation.  “I have been overseeing the shipping interests, going from port to port, and sometimes making the odd trip to pick up some particularly interesting shipments.  Though come to think on it, I should be talking to you about yer suppliers.  I have no’ tasted brandy this fine in a long while.  It’s French, is it no’?”

Lachlan smiled and nodded, pleased to see his friend’s good taste and quick wit had not dimmed.  “You ken we at Tolquhon are no’ without our connections, too.  There are several more bottles in my cellar, and I would be more than pleased to have you help me work my way through them.”

“But that I had the time.  Sadly, I fear I will have to delay that particular pleasure.”  Iain paused, clearing his throat nervously.  Lachlan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he casually rolled the glass between his hands.  He knew the words were not coming easily to Iain, but he didn’t want to rush him in his tale.

Iain polished off the last of his drink, setting the glass on the heavy mahogany table beside him as he pushed himself to his feet and began pacing across the room.  Clearly uncomfortable meeting his friend’s inquisitive gaze, he instead focused his eyes on the blazing fire.  “You ken my father has no’ been himself since Elizabeth died?” he asked, not pausing for an answer, for none was required.  “She was always his favorite, and his heart was broken when she died.  It was no’ just her death that devastated him.  The thought that Catriona might have killed her own sister verra nearly unhinged him.”

Iain continued to pace the length of the room, pausing now and then to steal a glance at his friend.  Lachlan wisely held his tongue, knowing his silence would gain more from his friend than questions would.  “Yes, well, my da and yers had both counted on the marriage between you and Elizabeth to seal the bond between the clans.  Even though half my kinsmen count yers as kin, too, the marriage would have made the ties stronger.  My da ne’er forgave himself for Elizabeth’s death – and what it cost the clan.  His people.”

Lachlan nodded his understanding, his dark brows slanted in concentration.  It was unlike Iain to speak so freely of the past.  Perhaps Seafield had sent his son in an effort to make amends? It was possible, he reasoned, but not likely.

“After Elizabeth died, my da became consumed with the idea of making Catriona pay for what she had done.”  Iain raised his hand to silence his friend before he had a chance to interrupt.  “Myself, I canna believe Catriona is capable of such a thing.  Elizabeth would ne’er have let aught stand in the way of something she wanted, but Catriona…she’s a different lass all together.  I do no’ believe she was involved in Elizabeth’s death.  But my da – it’s as if he needed some place to put all the anger and the guilt he felt. You would no’ recognize him today, Lachlan,” Iain sighed.  “He is no’ the mon he once was.”

Lachlan watched as Iain sat back down in his chair, his features drawn, his shoulders tense.  Lachlan could feel his own anxiety mounting in turn as the issues of the past lay unresolved between them.  “I ken the loss has been a difficult one for yer father, Iain.  It has been difficult for my people as well,” he replied gently.  “The chance we had to build a bridge between the clans died with Elizabeth.  And now, it’s up to the rest of us to do what we can to repair the damage.”

Wan with strain, Iain stared at his friend.  His expression was bleak, but there was a glimmer of hope in his pale brown eyes.  “It does no’ have to be like that any longer, Lachlan.  That’s why I came here – why I did no’ bring this news to my da first.”

Lachlan raised an eyebrow, silently inviting his friend to continue.  “It’s Catriona, Lachlan.  She’s alive.  I’ve found her.  And I will no’ rest until I can bring her to Tolquhon, and see the two of you wed.”  The look of shock on Lachlan’s face did nothing to deter his friend.  “Do you no’ see?  You have to marry her before my da finds her and punishes her for something she did no’ do.  There’s no other choice – particularly no’ if we want to see peace between the clans in our lifetime.”

###

Days later, as Lachlan struggled to come to terms with Iain’s grand plans, he was still in shock at his friend’s news.  In the years since her disappearance, he had thought of Catriona often, and with concern, but he had never thought she might someday come back into his life.  Iain had explained how he had spent years looking for his sister, but that he had kept his efforts secret from his controlling father.  Motivated partly by guilt, but also by love and concern, he had never stopped looking, regardless of what city or port he found himself in.

When one of the runners he had hired had spotted Catriona in a crowded Edinburgh street the previous month, Iain had been overjoyed at the discovery.  He had immediately set the men to following her, which is how he had discovered that she lived in an abbey in the center of the city.  It had taken no small amount of coin – and even greater patience – to uncover the circumstances of Catriona’s life.

Everything Iain had learned had convinced him his sister was innocent of any crime.  Discrete inquiries with barristers in the city had indicated there was little chance she could ever be charged with Elizabeth’s death, not with so much time having passed, and in the absence of any convincing evidence.

To Iain, the plan had been clear:  They would confront Catriona, confirm her innocence, and bring her back to Tolquhon – with or without her consent.  With her marriage to Lachlan, the ties between the clans would be strengthened, and the security of their people would be guaranteed.  Lachlan’s strength and position, extended to her through marriage, would protect her from any threat.

Iain had dismissed Lachlan’s concern that the people of both clans would not accept Catriona’s return – that they would reject her as a murderess, or worse.  He believed they would recognize her for the kind and gentle lass she was.

Trouble was, Lachlan was beginning to believe it, too.

At first he had rejected the plan out of hand, insulted by his friend’s audacity, and Iain’s blind belief in the soundness of his strategy.  But the more Lachlan considered the scheme, the more he began to see that it just might work.

To be sure, the plan did have its benefits – and thoughts of Catriona warming his bed had never been far from his mind since Iain had first unveiled his scheme.  But as his body stirred to thoughts of a mature, wiser Catriona, his mind counseled him that wedding and bedding an accused murderess might not be the wisest course of action.

Lachlan ran a hand through his long dark hair, wondering if he had truly lost his mind to be considering such a plan.  Iain had agreed to give him a few days to consider his proposition, and had left for Boyne the morning after his shocking revelation.  Before he departed, he’d agreed to keep the news from his father until his friend had reached his decision.  Lachlan had spent every moment since considering the plan, its implications and wondering – inexplicably – if he couldn’t make it work.

Lachlan brought Laeg to a halt at the crest of the hill, pausing to scan the valley and the burn that rippled through his lands.  The horse was content to feast upon the bracken as his master wrestled with his dilemma.

The sense of responsibility he felt to Tolquhon had been ingrained in him since he was still in swaddling cloths.  His duty was to his clan first, his family second.  Any needs beyond that were irrelevant.  It was the devil’s own choice, he thought idly.  Marry a suspected murderess to guarantee the clan’s security – and endanger himself and those dear to him should those charges against her prove true.

Lachlan reached down to stroke Laeg’s black coat, marveling at the tightly leashed strength he felt beneath his hand.  He and Laeg had been through a great deal together, and he would always be grateful for the animal’s abilities.  They had saved his life more than once, and if he coddled the animal from time-to-time, it was no less than the beast deserved.  It was the animal’s unwavering loyalty that had led Lachlan to name him after the loyal charioteer who gave his life in battle to save the ancient warrior Cuchulainn.