Love Letters from Largs: Brodie and Celestina (Highlander Clan Grant Series Book 3) (3 page)

“Aye.
And Haakon aims to travel to the Isle of Mann to see if Magnus still supports him.”

“
What do you expect of Magnus?”

Alexander’s chin
raised a notch. “I expect he will support Haakon, who is sure to take the opportunity to replenish his stores and head for Kintyre. Time will tell. But I refuse to be intimidated by his display. Those isles belong to the Scottish crown.”

Silence reigned as the king’s words settled
heavily on them all. Brodie glanced at his brother, hoping to read his reaction, but he couldn’t. A war like this could devastate Scotland. Brodie’s gut clenched with the realization that his clan might never be the same. And what role would he play? Alex had trained him to lead a number of warriors, but not all of them. Their number was too vast for him. Alex or Robbie would have to handle them. Would Alex leave Maddie behind? His mind churned with all the possibilities, none settling his stomach.

Walter
Stewart spoke up. “Since I am the Sheriff of Ayr, I would like to speak. Grant, we need your warriors to fight if needed, and we specifically need guards to help protect the Royal Castle here in Ayr.”

Alexander spoke. “Aye, Grant. We have nae enough protection if they attack outright.
Besides Boyd and Mure’s, we have other
s on their way, but y
ou have the largest group of fighting warriors in the Highlands, as well as the best trained. Can we count on you and your warriors? It may turn into naught, but it could mean a battle. I want my land and its people protected.”

Alex took his time before speaking.
“How many?”

“All of them. How many do you number?”
the king said.

Brodie jumped at the implication. Leave his family unguarded? He knew Alex would never do such a thing. He was stunned the
ir king would ask it of them. He waited with bated breath to hear his brother’s response.

“I will send you
two hundred and fifty. The rest stay to protect my own clan. You know I must do that, Your Grace.”

The king stared at the laird
for a long moment. “Is it true you have trained your stallions to wear mail?”

“Aye,
some but no’ all. ‘Tis something we are still working on.”

The
king strode over and clasped Alex on the shoulder. “I accept your two hundred and fifty trained warriors. Please send some of those stallions with the mail in case we are forced to battle. ” He smiled—first at Alex, then at Brodie. “That will do nicely for now, though things may change in the near future. I will find a nice chamber for you until your warriors arrive.”

“Och, I never agreed to stay.”

The king’s eyebrows rose in question.

“You may have both my brothers, but I will
return home to my wife until things change.”

Walter Stewart
spoke up. “Which brother handles the warriors in your absence?”

“Robbie. He is protecting my family while we travel.”

“Aye, then you may return home and send him with your warriors,” the king stated.

Walter Stewart
nodded toward Brodie. “We have other plans for this brother.”

Chapter Three

Too Late for Love

Brodie stared at his king, waiting to see what they had planned for him. There were so many islands west of Scotland. He could be sent anywhere…and he could do nothing to help the wee desperate lass if he was sent to the Outer Hebrides.

“We are building a
company of sergeants to protect the royal castle of Ayr and her people. Your king commands you to join this group as one of the captains.”

Brodie’s senses shut down. Had he heard correctly? The king wanted him
as a sergeant rather than his brother, Robbie? He had always been third in line. His brother, Alex, was renowned as the best swordsman in the Highlands. While he practiced with him incessantly, he knew his skills were not as strong as his brothers’.

The f
ull implication of the assignment settled in after a few minutes. It confirmed that he would be stationed in Ayr and with Robbie, not at the Grant keep.

At first, he wanted to bolt and run back to his clan
, but then fear changed to something else—pride. They considered him strong enough to protect the castle. He wondered if this was his chance to make both his brothers proud of him.

Alex
did not hesitate before responding. “You have chosen well, Menteith. My brother is a strong warrior and level headed. He will lead well and protect your castle as his own. And he is yet to be married, so he has no ties back home.”

Brodie fought to keep from staring at his brother. He scratched his head in confusion. Alex thought he was a strong warrior? After all the years
he’d spent telling him to try harder and do better, Alex believed he would do a good job?

“What say you, Brodie? Are you ready to lead?” His king stood in front of him, hands on his hips, awaiting
an answer.

Brodie nodded, “Aye, ‘twould be my honor to protect you and your castle,
Your Grace.”

The
king squeezed his shoulder in satisfaction and spoke to his steward at the door. “Get my best wine, Charles. We are in agreement. Lads, I do believe it is time to celebrate, mayhap with a lass or two?”

Alex barked
, “Nay!”

Brodie held his grin in check as h
is brother, having realized whom he was addressing, actually blushed and said, “No’ for me, Your Grace.”

An idea formed in Brodie’
s mind, and he swallowed before he spoke. He had to find out about her that lass, he just had to. And this was the perfect time to ask. “I ask a boon, Your Grace.”

The
king quirked his brow as he turned to stare at Brodie.

“Aye, if ‘tis in my power, Brodie. I will consider it.”

Brodie caught Alex’s grin before he plunged ahead. “When we arrived in Ayr, a yellow-haired lass stood in her tower window and appeared about to jump. I wish to find out who she is…and, if I can, help her.”

The
king chuckled. “Och, a young lass has caught your eye, lad, has she?” He poured wine into a goblet and offered it to Alex. “Tell me a bit more about her location.”

Alex and Brodie described the
tower home and its location as best they could.

After consulting with his brother, the
king asked, “Lad, I hope ‘twas nae the tower home I am thinking of, as it belongs to Baron Walter Lunde, a merchant originally from England, who is now one of my vassals. If she is his daughter, you must choose another. Her name is Celestina Lunde, and she is rarely seen, only with the priest of the Celtic Church. She is renowned to be one of the most beautiful lasses in the area and was born of a Norwegian mother. Golden-haired and angelic?”

“Aye, ‘tis her.
She is a beauty. ‘Twas the look in her eyes that caught me—sad and full of despair.”

The king glanced at his brother
again before shaking his head. “I hope you are wrong because your involvement in her life would be impossible. The lass is betrothed to Fredrik Ivarsson, a wealthy merchant originally from Orkney. This is a very important match for the Scottish crown, and it is to take place in less than a sennight.” The king sighed and strode over to his window. Without looking at Brodie, he continued, “Ivarsson has promised his loyalty in return for this marriage and promises to convince some Norwegian vassals in the Isles to support me. He has access to shipbuilders, and promises other funds to my court. I will not change anything concerning this arrangement. I stand by my commitment to the marriage. Find another, lad.”

Alex spoke up.
“My thanks, Your Grace, for your kind consideration of my clan and my brothers. May we take our leave? I need to consult with my brother.”

King Alexander
turned to face the group again, his hands woven behind his back. “As you wish, Grant. Your attendance at this eve’s meal is expected. The Baron and Fredrik Ivarsson will be in attendance, along with the lass in question, who will be at her betrothed’s side. So, you will find the answer to your question. If I am correct about her identity, then I will expect you to stay away from her.” The king’s eyes bored into Brodie’s, sending a chill down his spine. The threat in them was quite clear, but it didn’t matter…He would have to ignore it.

Quite simply, he knew it was not within his power to stay away from
the lass.

***

Fredrik Ivarsson kept his eye on his steward. There could be no wrinkle, no issue with his dress, for tonight he would meet his future wife. After securing his breeches and his tunic, he waited for his servant to assist him into his dark blue surcoat, embroidered in gold thread to match his other adornments.

“My lord, ‘tis quite stunning,”
the steward said, standing back to appreciate the full effect of the nobleman’s apparel.

“Of course, Hector. I paid the tailor well. I
will have the most regal presence of any man at dinner tonight.” He brushed a hand through his golden locks to make sure all were in place.

“But not more
so than the king, my lord?” Hector’s eyebrow rose.

Fredrik noticed Aldrik, his personal protector
sitting at a nearby table, had the same expression on his face.

“Do not be foolish. Of course I will
be more handsome than Alexander III. There is nothing I can do to avoid it, but I will wear fewer jewels than the king in deference to his rank.” Fredrik sighed, hating to think about making such a concession. “My mantle, Hector?”

Hector secured the blue mantle with a golden broach that
drew the eye. Fredrik smiled as he imagined how his splendor would awe his little bride-to-be.

The first time he had seen Celestina Lunde
, she had been talking to one of the Blackfriars, and the mere sight of her had stolen his breath away. Never had he seen a woman so lovely and so deserving of his companionship. He had heard of her beauty, but it had still taken him by surprise. After he’d discovered her mother’s Norwegian background, the marriage agreement might as well have been signed on the spot. He had become determined to have her as his wife, to return to Norway with her on his arm.

He had
now been here for two years and had acquired quite a few properties. The Scottish region was a great market for his various businesses, shipbuilding among them, so he had decided to stay for a time. When Fredrik found out King Haakon had set sail to stake his claim on the Western Isles, he was ecstatic. War was imminent, and as with any skirmish, there were be many ways for him to make a fortune. Now he was pursuing a plan that would end in immeasurable wealth for him.

“Excellent, Hector.” He ran his hands down the fine cloth of his mantle, reveling over how all his dreams would soon come to fruition.

“You look quite fine, my lord. None will compare. And the lady is certain to be pleased.”

“Let’s hope this lady is a bit more civilized and agreeable
than your last one,” Aldrik added. Speaking was a rarity for him. “Else we might have another mess on our hands.”

“What, Aldrik? Did I not pay you well enough to
take care of her? I have no guilt about ridding the world of that bitch.” Ivarsson huffed his indignation at the thought of his intended being anything like his first wife.

“
It did cost me a bit more than I had hoped to secure Celestina’s hand, but the rewards will be worth it. What are two ships and some money compared to a gorgeous wife and the confidence of a king?” He chuckled along with Aldrik, as he thought back on his dealings with King Alexander III. He had been a bit tougher to bargain with than Fredrik had anticipated, but every man could be bought, even a king.

He had first assured
the king of the support of several Norwegian vassals, but the king had been wary of his ability to make good on the offer. He had been forced to sweeten the deal. As soon as Alexander heard that Haakon was headed in their direction, the gift of two galley ships had bought his approval of the match between Fredrik and Celestina…as well as his comradeship. And when Fredrik had promised Baron Lunde more than enough wealth to pay off the taxes he owed his king, all the chips fell into place, so to speak.

The
Scottish king was happy, Baron Lunde was happy, and so was Fredrik Ivarsson. He may have to contact a few vassals to convince the king of his loyalty, but that would be easy. He was now in the king’s inner circle, which meant he was privy to all of the Scot’s plans—a potential gold mine—and the legendary, angelic beauty would be his wife. What more could he ask for?

***

Celestina and her father rode to the royal castle in an expensive cart while his steward rode Baron Lunde’s horse. She gazed out over the landscape, wishing her betrothed would turn out to be a dashing knight who would fight for her honor instead of the man he was reputed to be.

Her father’s gaze never left her. “Celestina, if you do anything to embarrass me tonight, I will be sure you suffer for it on the morrow.”

“Yes, Father. I will do my best to make you proud.” She stared at the chains in her belt, which she gripped with white knuckles. Excitement and dread roiled through her. She had never been to the royal castle and was anxious to see what it looked like. Had her husband been someone else, she would have been excited to meet him, especially since he had the ability to take her away from her father.

But someone had told Inga’s mother that he had beat
en his first wife to death. Was this to be her fate as well? To go from a father’s torture to a husband’s?

Her father’s bark interrupted her thoughts.
“Could Inga not have done something else with that unruly mop of hair you have? It is such a sight. How can I marry you off looking as you do? We are to be seen at the royal castle, and everyone will talk about your homeliness. I should have had Inga cut off all your hair.”

Celestina couldn’t suppress her gasp at the thought of sheering her
near waist length hair.

Her father shook his head before
turning to stare out the window. “My God, you are a simpering fool. Try not to discourage your betrothed tonight. Be agreeable, will you?”

Once they arrived, the driver assisted her down from the car
t. Celestina attempted to quell the trembling in her hands as she ascended the stairs to the castle behind her father. Knowing that she would be on display tonight, her father had ensured she was wearing a gown of good quality. The kirtle was a soft shade of yellow and her surcoat was the palest shade of lavender, which perfectly matched the flowers in her hair. She also wore a chain of gold around her hips. Inga had done a beautiful job arranging her hair and the veil; she didn’t care what her father thought. For the first time in her life, she felt pretty. Of course, her father had not made any mention of her dress.

The sinking feeling in her belly persisted.
Very soon, she would meet her betrothed, Fredrik Ivarsson. She had no idea what he looked like, but what did it matter if he was as cruel as the gossips claimed? She would have preferred a kind, homely man to a temperamental one. Somehow, she felt as if she were attending a funeral instead of a royal dinner.

She shook her head to stop her mind from dwelling on the negatives. Today was a day to celebrate. This was the first time she had been to any festivities, and the thought of being at the hall of the king sent her heart racing. Anxious to see the
lords and ladies, the clothing, the food, and just to be able to have contact with others, Celestina couldn’t help but feel exhilarated at tonight’s prospects. How bad could her betrothed be? She was getting away from her father and into a new world.

Once they stepped inside
, the page ushered them into the great hall where she stood in line awaiting presentation to the king. She glanced over the shoulders of those in front of her to catch a view of the regal man. The king sat in an intricately carved chair on the dais, guards on each side. His surcoat was a dark red decorated with gold. He was adorned with jewels everywhere. Awestruck by the majestic ambience, she didn’t realize the line had progressed much until she found herself in front of the king. Blushing at her mistake, she curtsied as deep as she could and prayed silently that it was enough to meet her father’s standards.