When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (2 page)

She gripped Angus’s hand. “I wish
you were my father.”

He gave her a proud yet smug look,
one she was used to seeing. She chortled to herself. The man did have a
terrible streak of pride. She’d have to give Father John another coin for
penance for Angus, since the Scot refused to take up the custom himself.

Angus hooked his thumb in his gray
tunic. “Ye’ll make a fine MacLeod because ye already ken we’re the best clan in
Scotland.”

Mentally, she added another coin to
her dues. “Do you think they’ll let me become a MacLeod, though, since my
mother was the daughter of the previous MacDonald laird and I’ve an English
father?”

“They will,” he answered without
hesitation, but she heard the slight catch in his voice.

“Angus.” She narrowed her eyes.
“You said you would never lie to me.”

His brows dipped together, and he
gave her a long, disgruntled look. “They may be a bit wary,” he finally
admitted. “But I’ll nae let them turn ye away. Dunnae worry,” he finished, his
Scottish brogue becoming thick with emotion.

She bit her lip. “Yes, but you
won’t be with me when I first get there. What should I do to make certain that
they will let me stay?”

He quirked his mouth as he considered
her question. “Ye must first get the laird te like ye. Tell Neil te take ye
directly te the MacLeod te get his consent for ye te live there. I kinnae vouch
for the man myself as I’ve never met him, but Neil says he’s verra honorable,
fierce in battle, patient, and reasonable.” Angus cocked his head as if in
thought. “Now that I think about it, I’m sure the MacLeod can get ye a husband,
and then the clan will more readily accept ye. Aye.” He nodded. “Get in the laird’s
good graces as soon as ye meet him and ask him te find ye a husband.” A scowl
twisted his lips. “Preferably one who will accept yer acting like a man
sometimes.”

She frowned at him. “
You
are
the one who taught me how to ride bareback, wield a dagger, and shoot an arrow
true.”

“Aye.” He nodded. “I did. But when
I started teaching ye, I thought yer mama would be around te add her woman’s
touch. I did nae ken at the time that she’d pass when ye’d only seen eight
summers in yer life.”

“You’re lying again,” Marion said.
“You continued those lessons long after Mama’s death. You weren’t a bit worried
how I’d turn out.”

“I sure was!” he objected, even as
a guilty look crossed his face. “But what could I do? Ye insisted on hunting
for the widows so they’d have food in the winter, and ye insisted on going out
in the dark te help injured knights when I could nae go with ye. I had te teach
ye te hunt and defend yerself. Plus, you were a sad, lonely thing, and I could
nae verra well overlook ye when ye came te the stables and asked me te teach ye
things.”

“Oh, you could have,” she replied.
“Father overlooked me all the time, but your heart is too big to treat someone
like that.” She patted him on the chest. “I think you taught me the best things
in the world, and it seems to me any man would want his woman to be able to
defend herself.”

“Shows how much ye ken about men,”
Angus muttered with a shake of his head. “Men like te think a woman needs
them
.”

“I dunnae need a man,” she said in
her best Scottish accent.

He threw up his hands. “Ye do. Ye’re
just afeared.”

The fear was true enough. Part of
her longed for love, to feel as if she belonged to a family. For so long she’d
wanted those things from her father, but she had never gotten them, no matter
what she did. It was difficult to believe it would be any different in the
future. She’d rather not be disappointed.

Angus tilted his head, looking at
her uncertainly. “Ye want a wee bairn some day, dunnae ye?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted and
peered down at the ground, feeling foolish.

“Then ye need a man,” he crowed.

She drew her gaze up to his. “Not
just any man. I want a man who will truly love me.”

He waved a hand dismissively.
Marriages of convenience were a part of life, she knew, but she would not marry
unless she was in love and her potential husband loved her in return. She would
support herself if she needed to.

“The other big problem with a
husband for ye,” he continued, purposely avoiding, she suspected, her mention
of the word
love
, “as I see it, is yer tender heart.”

“What’s wrong with a tender heart?”
She raised her brow in question.

“’Tis more likely te get broken,
aye?” His response was matter-of-fact.

“Nay. ’Tis more likely to have
compassion,” she replied with a grin.

“We’re both right,” he announced. “Yer
mama had a tender heart like ye. ’Tis why yer father’s black heart hurt her so.
I dunnae care te watch the light dim in ye as it did yer mother.”

“I don’t wish for that fate,
either,” she
replied
, trying hard not to
think about how sad and distant her mother had often seemed. “Which is why I will
only marry for love. And why I need to get out of England.”

“I ken that, lass, truly I do, but
ye kinnae go through life alone.”

“I don’t wish to,” she defended.
“But if I have to, I have you, so I’ll not be alone.” With a shudder, her heart
denied the possibility that she may never find love, but she squared her
shoulders.

“’Tis nae the same as a husband,”
he said. “I’m old. Ye need a younger man who has the power te defend ye. And if
Sir Frosty Pants ever comes after ye, you’re going te need a strong man te go
against him.”

Marion snorted to cover the worry
that was creeping in.

Angus moved his mouth to speak, but
his reply was drowned by the sound of the supper horn blowing. “God’s bones!”
Angus muttered when the sound died. “I’ve flapped my jaw too long. Ye must go
now. I’ll head te the stables and start the fire as we intended. It’ll draw
Andrew and Peter away if they are watching ye too closely.”

Marion looked over her shoulder at
the knights, her stomach turning. She had known the plan since the day they had
formed it, but now the reality of it scared her into a cold sweat. She turned
back to Angus and gripped her dagger hard. “I’m afraid.”

Determination filled his
expression, as if his will for her to stay out of harm would make it so. “Ye
will stay safe,” he commanded. “Make yer way through the path in the woods that
I showed ye, straight te Newcastle. I left ye a bag of coins under the first
tree ye come te, the one with the rope tied te it. Neil will be waiting for ye
by Pilgrim Gate on Pilgrim Street. The two of ye will depart from there.”

She worried her lip but nodded all
the same.

“Neil has become friends with a
friar who can get the two of ye out,” Angus went on. “Dunnae talk te anyone,
especially any men. Ye should go unnoticed, as ye’ve never been there and won’t
likely see anyone ye’ve ever come in contact with here.”

Fear tightened her lungs, but she
swallowed. “I didn’t even bid anyone farewell.” Not that she really could have,
nor did she think anyone would miss her other than Angus, and she would be
seeing him again. Peter and Andrew
had
been kind to her, but they were
her father’s men, and she knew it well. She had been taken to the dungeon by
the knights several times for punishment for transgressions that ranged from
her tone not pleasing her father to his thinking she gave him a disrespectful
look. Other times, they’d carried out the duty of tying her to the post for a
thrashing when she’d angered her father. They had begged her forgiveness
profusely but done their duties all the same. They would likely
be
somewhat glad
they did not have to contend with such things
anymore.

Eustice was both kind
and
thankful for Marion teaching her brother how to read, but Eustice lost all
color any time someone mentioned the maid going with Marion to Froste’s home
after Marion was married. She suspected the woman was afraid to go to the home
of the infamous “Merciless Knight.” Eustice would likely
be
relieved
when Marion disappeared. Not that Marion blamed her.

A small lump lodged in her throat.
Would her father even mourn her loss? It wasn’t likely, and her stomach knotted
at the thought.

“You’ll come as soon as you can?”
she asked Angus.

“Aye. Dunnae fash yerself.”

She forced a smile. “You are
already sounding like you’re back in Scotland. Don’t forget to curb that when
speaking with Father.”

“I’ll remember. Now, make haste te
the cliff te leave yer cloak, then head straight for Newcastle.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she
said, ashamed at the sudden rise of cowardliness in her chest and at the way
her eyes stung with unshed tears.

“Gather yer courage, lass. I’ll be
seeing ye soon, and Neil will keep ye safe.”

She sniffed. “I’ll do the same for
Neil.”

“I’ve nay doubt ye’ll try,” Angus
said, sounding proud and wary at the same time.

“I’m not afraid for myself,” she
told him in a shaky voice. “You’re taking a great risk for me. How will I ever
make it up to you?”

“Ye already have,” Angus said
hastily, glancing around and directing a worried look toward the drawbridge.
“Ye want te live with my clan, which means I can go te my dying day treating ye
as my daughter. Now, dunnae cry when I walk away. I ken how sorely ye’ll miss
me,” he boasted with a wink. “I’ll miss ye just as much.”

With that, he swung up onto his
mount. He had just given the signal for his beast to go when Marion realized
she didn’t know what Neil looked like.

“Angus!”

He pulled back on the reins and
turned toward her. “Aye?”

“I need Neil’s description.”

Angus’s
eyes
widened. “I’m getting old,” he grumbled. “I dunnae believe I forgot such a
detail. He’s got hair redder than mine, and wears it tied back always. Oh, and
he’s missing his right ear, thanks te Froste. Took it when Neil came through
these parts te see me last year.”

“What?” She gaped at him. “You
never told me that!”

“I did nae because I knew ye would
try te go after Neil and patch him up, and that surely would have cost ye
another beating if ye were caught.” His gaze bore into her. “Ye’re verra
courageous. I reckon I had a hand in that ’cause I knew ye needed te be strong
te withstand yer father. But dunnae be mindless. Courageous men and women who
are mindless get killed. Ye ken?”

She nodded.

“Tread carefully,” he warned.

“You too.” She said the words to
his back, for he was already turned and headed toward the drawbridge.

She made her way slowly to the edge
of the steep embankment as tears filled her eyes. She wasn’t upset because she
was leaving her father—she’d certainly need to say a prayer of forgiveness for
that sin tonight—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d never see Angus
again. It was silly; everything would go as they had planned. Before she could
fret further, the blast of the fire horn jerked her into motion. There was no
time for any thoughts but those of escape.

Iain MacLeod strode out of Odiham Castle and toward
the stables without a backward glance. He was in a foul mood. He’d been in
England for a fortnight, and it was a fortnight too long. And now he had to
make a stop along the way home to marry some Sassenach he’d never met. And for
a man who had no desire to ever marry again, the impending wedding did not
instill any warmness in his gut.

He stalked past King Edward’s
guards, who still gaped every time they saw him, in spite of the fact that he’d
been here several days trying to work out the terms of David II, King of Scot’s
release. Iain scowled at the sacrifice it required, as marrying once more was
indeed a sacrifice for him. But he’d do it for David, as they were longtime
friends. The last guard flinched, then his eyes widened as Iain strode past. He
wasn’t sure what fascinated the young guards more, his size or the size of his
sword. Either way, he was tired of being stared at, weary of bland English
food, and annoyed with the politics between David and King Edward.

He continued walking, paying no
mind to their stares, until he reached the stable, where he found Rory Mac—his
friend, companion on this trip, and council member of his clan—napping in the
hay by their horses. Iain shook his head. He’d not had a decent night’s sleep
since David’s missive had arrived at Iain’s home, Dunvegan Castle, over a
fortnight prior. The letter had implored him to depart at once for England, and
since the letter had been unclear and simply stated that David needed Iain’s help
to persuade King Edward to negotiate his release, Iain’s mind had not allowed
him to rest. There had been many possibilities of what the letter might
signify—war, murder, an attempted escape, though unlikely given the
impossibility of an escape without attack. Of all the possibilities, however,
Iain had never once considered that the way he was to help was by marrying a
Sassenach.

Rory Mac snored loudly, and Iain
stared down at him with annoyance. The man seemed to be able to sleep anywhere
at any time, unlike Iain. Of course, that was not Rory Mac’s fault. Iain nudged
his friend in the leg to wake him.

Rory Mac slowly opened his eyes and
grimaced, then stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders. “I’d
hoped to be home today. Alanna will be angry that we’ve been gone so long.”

Iain nodded his understanding. Rory
Mac’s wife, Alanna, had not wanted him to come to England because she’d had a
feeling that something terrible would happen. She’d thought that bad fortune
would befall her husband, but with the predicament Iain now found himself in,
he wondered if the bad fortune she’d feared was not his.

“I wish to be home, as well,” Iain
said. “I miss Dunvegan.”

Rory Mac stood up and dusted the
stray hay from his braies. “What do ye miss most?”

Iain thought about it. He missed
bathing in the cold seawater, even if it did make his bollocks curl painfully
tight. He’d not say that, of course. “I miss grievances of the clan,” he said,
knowing it would surprise Rory Mac, given how irritated Iain always got when he
had to spend hours on end listening to complaints.

Rory Mac cocked his eyebrow as they
walked to the horses to ready them to depart. “I dunnae believe ye.”

Iain laughed, understanding why,
yet it was an awareness of their clan’s ways that he appreciated even more now,
having been here among the English for so long. “It’s true. We air our
grievances unlike the English. It’s tiresome but honest. The English dunnae do
that, and I dunnae trust King Edward does, either.”

“Nor does David, which is why he summoned
ye, I think.”

Iain nodded and made a derisive
noise from his throat. “Of course David does nae trust Edward, but David knows
he can trust me.” Iain stared at his friend. “Dunnae mistake Edward to be weak.
David would have never been able to summon me if it did nae suit Edward’s
purposes.”

Rory Mac nodded. “I’ll nae forget.
Tell me of the talks today. I suppose an agreement was made for David’s
release?”

Iain motioned to the stable door to
imply that he’d speak when they were alone. Once they were outside, had mounted
their horses, and were a respectable distance from the castle, Iain answered
Rory Mac’s question. “A date was set to come back to the table to discuss and
set the official terms of David’s release, but it’s still a long way off.”

Rory Mac grimaced. “Why must ye
come back? Why could they nae set the terms of David’s release while ye’re
here?”

He slowed his destrier and looked
at his friend. “King Edward has a provision that must be met before he will consent
to talk officially of releasing David.” The muscles in Iain’s neck tensed at
the thought of marrying again.

“What is it?” Rory Mac demanded,
his eyes narrowing with obvious wariness.

Iain wondered if that’s how he had
looked when David had told him what King Edward wanted. It was likely. He took
a deep breath. “I have to marry some Englishwoman—the daughter of Baron de
Lacy,” he muttered, trying to keep the ire out of his voice, but he knew
immediately that he’d failed when he saw the look of pity on Rory Mac’s face.

“Marry a Sassenach?” his friend
cried out in surprise. “Ye?”

“Aye,” Iain said on a long,
irritated sigh. An image of his late wife, Catriona, filled his mind, making
his chest ache. He clamped his emotions down as quickly as they had arisen. “The
king of England suspects Baron de Lacy and William Froste of plotting to take
the throne.”

Rory Mac pressed his lips into a
thin line, his nostrils flaring. “Are ye speaking of the knight who cut off
Neil’s ear? The tourney knight?”

Iain’s jaw clenched thinking of
Froste. The man was as renowned for his skills in battle and on the tourney
field as his cruelty. Iain didn’t normally pay any heed to rumors but Froste
had proven himself hard-hearted when he’d cut the ear off one of Iain’s
clansman for a crime Froste knew damn well the man had not committed. Iain had
a score to settle with Froste, and he welcomed the opportunity.

“Well?” Rory Mac demanded, bringing
Iain’s attention back to him.

“Aye, the one and the same,” Iain
growled. The men locked gazes and spit toward the ground at once to signify
what they thought of a man with no honor. “It seems the king got word that
Froste is to marry de Lacy’s daughter, and it’s a match the king intends to
stop. Froste wanted land from the king and the title of baron, which King Edward
refused, and de Lacy…” Iain shrugged. “The king believes de Lacy wants the
throne, and if he and Froste join forces, the two would have enough knights,
money, and allies that the king is nervous.” Iain rolled his shoulders, which
now throbbed with pressure, as Rory Mac stared intently at him.

Taking a deep breath, Iain
continued. “The king is savvy. He is using the fact that he has David
imprisoned to weaken de Lacy and Froste’s scheme. He intends to strip de Lacy
of the land that is currently in his control, which the king knows Froste
wants, and give it to me upon my marriage to de Lacy’s daughter. In return, I
had to pledge that if de Lacy and Froste should rise against the king, our clan
would fight beside King Edward.”

“But
of course
they’ll rise against him!” Rory Mac cried out, his lip curled back.

“Aye,” Iain agreed, holding his
friend’s outraged
gaze
. “The king kens it,
too. And he understands that David and I ken it, but King Edward would nae say
as much out loud. I’m the perfect solution. He can quell the rebellion without
sacrificing any English blood, except of course de Lacy’s and Froste’s.”

“Why did David nae ask Gowan’s son
to marry the lass to gain his freedom instead of ye? Gowan is laird of the
MacDonald clan and the lass
is
his niece, so surely they should make the
sacrifice and nae ye?”

Iain had asked David that same
question. “Because he does nae trust Gowan to become a possible ally with the
King of England. David only trusts me.”

Rory Mac shook his head. “I ken
he’s your friend, but ye could say nay. He asks too much of ye.”

The thought of marrying again made
Iain clench his teeth, but he forced himself to relax his jaw. “He is my friend
and my king, and he needs my help so I’ll give it. I’d have done the same if
I’d been imprisoned in England without word of when I’d be released. David
knows I’d never turn against him and join forces with Edward, but he does nae
ken that of Gowan. The laird is cunning, much like the King of England
himself.” Iain stared at the dusty road ahead, hoping the conversation was
over. While his own reaction to his upcoming alliance was negative, he did not
want to instill dislike of the Sassenach in his clan.

But Rory Mac pressed on. “Do ye
think Gowan knew of King Edward’s demand?”

“I imagine David told him. Gowan is
Lord of the Isles, and as ye said before, the lass is his niece, though I
dunnae think he’s ever met her.”

Rory Mac scratched at his chin, a
contemplative look coming to his face. “Ye ken, Gowan likely didn’t argue
David’s plot to ask ye to sacrifice yerself ’cause Gowan thinks binding ye in
marriage with his niece will make ye feel a certain fealty to him.”

Iain had thought the same thing, and
if it was true, Gowan was partially right. Once he was married to the
MacDonald’s niece, Iain would join forces with the laird to defend the MacDonalds
if
the need arose, but the old laird was a clot-heid if he thought that
would make Iain any less wary of the cunning laird trying to steal MacLeod
lands.

“What do ye ken of the lass?”

“Nae verra much. Her name is
Marion.” He turned the name of the faceless woman over in his mind. He felt
nothing, except the inevitableness of the marriage. Perhaps David had done him
a favor. Iain had no wish to marry, but he did have a duty as laird of the MacLeod
clan to produce an heir. He’d tried to forget the duty, but David had pointedly
reminded him. So now he’d marry some pale, pampered Sassenach who he’d not
really like. At least he’d not make the same error again and fall in love with
his wife. Loving and losing Catriona had nearly destroyed him. He had no wish
to love like that again.

A Sassenach would never take the
place of the beautiful, delicate wife, whom he’d vowed to keep from harm and had
failed. He was safe from being bewitched by de Lacy’s daughter, but he’d treat
the woman well, which was a great deal more than she could have expected from
Froste. The thought made Iain grin.

“I may take no pleasure in
remarrying,” he said, “but I take a sinful amount of pleasure in the fact that
I’ll be relieving Froste of the woman he wants—or rather, the land and title he
wants. The man deserves more for what he did to Neil, but this is a good start.
Come, let’s pick up the pace. The quicker we collect my soon-to-be bride from
her home, the faster we can be on our way to Scotland.”

As they rode through the day and into the night,
Iain steeled himself for the likely tears from the Sassenach when she learned
she was to marry a stranger, and a Scot at that, as well as the anger from de
Lacy when he either realized or suspected that his king had checkmated him. It
would be a boon if Froste was at de Lacy’s home when they arrived, and Iain
could tell the knight to his face that he wouldn’t be getting his coveted land
or a title.

By the time the castle came into
view, Iain felt prepared for anything. Yet his lips parted in surprise at the
thick
,
smoke
-filled
air that swirled around the castle, which stood high on a hill. The smell of
burning wood drifted in the air from the bailey, from whence large flames flickered.
The drawbridge from the bailey to the land beyond was down, and knights and
servants swarmed across the length of the bridge and in front of the bailey.
Torches of orange light peppered the darkness surrounding the source of the
fire.

Iain stared at Rory Mac, who had
already unhooked his sword from where it had been strapped on his mount. “Be
ready,” Iain commanded, “but hold for my word. I’d rather nae fight my future
wife’s father just yet, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“As ye wish,” Rory Mac said, in
spite of his scowl. He was clearly itching for a fight, as he often was. He did
not have a temper, but he certainly wasn’t afraid to yield when challenged, and
that was one of the reasons he was so useful to Iain. The man would listen when
told to hold, but he’d also fight to the death when ordered.