X Marks the Scot (16 page)

Rosalia sat to Liadain’s left and MacGregor to the right. If Rosalia had not been conversing with her during the evening meal, Liadain would have been eating alone. MacGregor had barely uttered a word to her since their arrival at Glenorchy.

She straightened her spine, resolved to hide her issues. “Are ye joyful to be home, Husband?” She reached for her tankard, thinking that perhaps if she called him something other than “MacGregor,” it would improve his darkened temperament.

He raised his brow, then glanced back to his meal. She had almost given up hope that he would respond when he finally opened his mouth. “’Tis good to be home…
healer
.”

He
should’ve kept it shut.

She placed a piece of bread in her mouth before scathing words decided to escape it. Killing the arrogant beast in the great hall amidst a room full of MacGregors would not be in her best interest.

Her husband cleared his throat and captured her eyes. “My apologies that my mood has been so…”

“Foul?”

“I wasnae exactly thinking of that particular word, but aye.” He nodded reluctantly.

“Then cease. ’Tis verra annoying,” she said tersely.

He chuckled. “Are ye always so forthcoming?”

“We are wed. There is nay need for games.”

As though she had struck him, MacGregor stiffened. “Thank ye for reminding me. How could I forget?” he muttered loud enough for her to hear.

His words left her with an inexplicable emptiness. Liadain settled back, disappointed. The rogue did not want to be shackled, and he clearly let her know it at every turn.

***

Declan had never thought the word “husband” would ever escape her lips. Why must the healer constantly remind him of the weight he carried? Deep in his gut he knew that he needed to make this work, but damn. Every time he brought himself closer to accepting that fact, he lost control. His freedom was being stripped from him far too early.

He gulped another mouthful of ale. What he needed was a distraction. He glanced around the great hall and spotted Aire and Mary. The women were huddled against the far wall, their smoldering gazes reminding him of a sorely missed past. With their long auburn tresses and full hips, the lasses were indeed the perfect pair to ease his troubles.

Mary whispered something to Aire and ambled toward him with swaying hips. She looked like a cat on the prowl. She bent over and gave him a perfect view of her ample bosom as she picked up a tray and raised her brow. “Welcome home,” she said with a sultry glance.

Declan gave her an amused look. “Thank ye. ’Tis good to be home.”

When Mary hesitated a bit too long and her eyes held another meaning entirely, the healer cleared her throat. Casting Mary a haughty glance, his wife spoke in a clipped tone. “I am Lady Liadain MacGregor. The man ye are so blatantly offering yourself to is my husband.”

Mary’s eyes held his a moment longer, and then she turned and bowed her head. “My apologies, my lady,” she murmured, turning on her heel.

He reached around the back of the healer’s chair and leaned in close. Lowering his voice, he whispered in her ear. “Jealous?”

“Nay. I willnae be disrespected so openly.”

Removing his arm from the back of the chair, he shifted in his seat. He felt an odd twinge of disappointment that his wife was not envious of another woman. He was studying her profile intently when Rosalia called out, startling him.

“There ye are,” she said, speaking like a mother scolding her son.

“I know I am late. Pray tell me ye saved me something to eat, Rosalia.” A man came toward them with an arrogant swagger and a build similar to Ciaran’s. His ash-blond hair was tied at the nape of his neck and he carried a bow. He stepped onto the dais and walked around the table. Reaching Rosalia, the man bent over and kissed her on the cheek.

Ciaran cleared his throat as the man deliberately ignored him, reached out, and stole a piece of meat from Rosalia’s hand, tossing it straight into his mouth. When Ciaran’s face hardened and his jaw started to tick, Declan chuckled. He liked this man already.

He pulled himself to his feet and approached the man. “I assume ye are Montgomery.”

Raising his brow, Montgomery stood to his full height and studied Declan for a moment. “And ye must be the rog—”

Rosalia reached up and slapped Montgomery’s arm. “James,” she said in a scolding tone.

Montgomery extended his hand and Declan shook it. “I have heard much about ye as well,” said Declan, peering around the man’s shoulder and casting a glance at Ciaran.

His lairdship returned a blank stare, but Declan knew the true meaning behind Ciaran’s look. Declan would definitely befriend this man. Being too occupied with firing his brother’s ire, Declan failed to notice that Montgomery had stepped around him. When he heard Rosalia groan, he whipped his head around.

His newfound friend had lifted the healer’s hand, brushing a brief kiss on the top of it. “I have ne’er seen a bonnier lass,” Montgomery said smoothly.

The healer giggled and something within Declan stirred at the sound of her giddiness. He did not remember his wife ever laughing that way with him. He had never denied her beauty. The problem was everything else that came with it.

“Your tresses are as black as a starless night.” Montgomery continued with his flowery words.

“James, this is…” Rosalia interjected.

“My wife,” said Declan with more conviction in his voice than he had intended.

Montgomery wisely released the healer’s hand and cast a roguish grin much like Declan’s own. “Then let me congratulate ye. Your wife is simply exquisite. Ye are a verra lucky man.”

Declan smirked. “Luck has naught to do with it.”

***

Liadain could not make her excuses soon enough. Men were raking on her nerves—well, one man in particular. She sought the solace of the garden and sat on a bench as a flowery scent tickled her nose.

One more night and she would be home. It would be in her best interest to resume her daily activities and keep herself occupied. Of course her healing plants would need tending, and there would always be someone in the village who suffered an ailment. Pondering her marital arrangements, she was curious whether she would keep her own bedchamber or if MacGregor would accept Archie’s. Her husband’s thoughts were so difficult to discern that anything was possible.

MacGregor had not been close with her since their time together at the loch. She tried not to take it personally, but her mind constantly burned with the memory. She often recalled the warmth of his touch, shivering with vivid recollection. She didn’t remember Robert rousing her passion to that degree.

As rapidly as the pictures came back into her mind, she stayed them. The heat she so openly welcomed turned cold. MacGregor did not love her. He did not want her. He barely acknowledged her existence.

Liadain was not sure how much time had passed, but since the sun had set some time ago, she surmised that she had better take her leave while she could still see. Deliberately avoiding all the MacGregors, she circled along the outer wall of the bailey undetected. She’d had years to perfect the art of masking her presence. Lifting her skirts, she tiptoed up the steps. When she reached the hall to her chamber, she made a mad dash.

She rushed inside her bedchamber and leaned back against the wooden door. She stripped her gown, donned her nightrail, and climbed into bed. Liadain could barely contain her excitement, knowing she would be able to crawl into her own bed on the morrow. She pulled up the blankets with a deep, contented sigh and closed her eyes.

She swore she had just fallen into a blissful slumber when she awoke with a start. The light from the single candle had almost dissipated. She could barely make out MacGregor fumbling his way at the foot of the bed. She rolled over, trying desperately to ignore him.

The bed shook and MacGregor cursed.

Unfortunately, she was now fully awake. “What are ye doing?” she asked, sitting up and blowing the tresses from her eyes.

“My apologies that I woke ye.”

“Ye moved the entire bed and ye didnae answer my question. What are ye doing?” She pulled up her knees and rested her chin on top.

“I’m searching for my sack.”

Liadain gave a quick nod to her right. “’Tis over there on the floor. ’Tis late. What do ye want with it now?”

He lifted his bundle and started to walk toward the door. “I will sleep below stairs.”

“With your whores?” The words were blurted out before she even realized they had left her lips. She was empty and drained, but that was no excuse. This argument would be entirely her fault.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

Her husband’s vexation was evident, and her annoyance increased when she found that her hands were shaking. The last thing she wanted was to start another argument, but when she did not immediately respond, MacGregor dropped the bag to the floor. He stood to his full, imposing height and she became aware that this might not bode well for her.

“What did ye say?” he asked with a silken thread of warning.

Biting her lip, Liadain looked away.

“Healer!”

She flinched at his tone. “It was naught,” she said quietly. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he sat down beside her on the edge of the bed.

“Do ye honestly believe that I would bed another woman?”

She turned her head away. How did he expect her to answer such a question? His actions this eve did not reinforce a favorable opinion of him.

Curses fell from his mouth. “Ye donna have to answer. Ye just did.” A chill hung on his words.

Liadain glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes, and her mood veered sharply to anger. “What am I supposed to think? Ye donna speak to me. Ye barely look at me. Ye blame me for this marriage and constantly remind me of that fact at every turn. Ye clearly donna want me. So tell me, MacGregor, how am I to believe ye will stay true to your vows?” Her accusing voice stabbed the air.

He chuckled nastily. “If I have to answer that question, then ye donna know me at all. Ye insult me and my honor.”

She shot him a cold look. “Insult ye? Ye have done naught but insult me ever since we met. I may be a Campbell, half-Campbell,” she clarified. “But I am naught like my brother. I donna want to play the games of men and yet I always find myself in the middle of their plots. Praise the saints,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. “I didnae ask for this either, but I at least try. We are bonded and bound by God. There is nay undoing what has already been done. I know ye didnae want this, but must I hear it at every turn? If we donna stand together, we will surely fall apart. Is that what ye want?”

He stared, wordlessly.

“Ye were kinder to me before we wed. I thought we may have even been friends. Granted, your views have changed since then, but they donna have to. I am still me. If ye want the kind of marriage where I am to be seen and nae heard, that is clearly your choice, but nae one I would make. I have seen the kindness within ye and I wish to have it back. This man who has nay concern for anyone but himself isnae the same man I have come to know. If ye decide to bed other women, I—”

MacGregor brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead. “Shh…I willnae bed another. I am a man of my word and I stay true to my vows. I donna want anger between us. Let me just hold ye.” He lay down beside her and pulled her close, her bottom nestling into his groin.

Liadain drew a deep breath. What did this mean? She had no idea, but she was determined not to reveal her joy at seeing him like this. Her fingernails gently stroked her husband’s forearm as he held her snugly against him. She was fully aware of where his warm flesh touched her. The gentle snort in her ear made her chuckle. The infamous rogue had fallen asleep.

***

Sunlight glimmered upon her eyes and she brushed her hair away from her face. Liadain reached over and patted the bed. It did not take her long to realize she was alone. The empty bed left her with an inexplicable feeling of emptiness, but MacGregor probably wanted to get an early start to Castle Campbell. And more importantly, she would be home at last.

She threw the blankets from the bed. Home was waiting for her, calling her. She donned her day dress and repacked her sack, thankful that this would be the last time she’d need to. Not wanting to keep her husband waiting, she hefted her burden out the door and dropped it to the floor. When she glanced down the hall and no one was there to assist her, she decided to carry the bag herself.

She dragged the bundle down the steps. When she finally made it to the bottom, she decided to let the heavy load sit. Someone would be along shortly and could secure it to her mount. She walked into the great hall with a lighter spring in her step.

Rosalia was playing with the giant dog. “Good morn.”

“Give me Ciaran’s tunic, ye beastly dog,” said Rosalia through clenched teeth, pulling the cloth from the dog’s jaws. She glanced up and smiled. “Liadain, I hope ye slept well.”

She nodded. “Have ye seen my husband?”

“Aye. He didnae tell ye?” Rosalia gazed at her questioningly. “He took his leave this morn to Castle Campbell.”

Declan breathed deeply, the morning air fresh and crisp. He needed all the help he could get to clear the cobwebs in his head. With Ciaran and Aiden by his side, he galloped to Castle Campbell to inspect his new home.

When he had awoken at dawn to soft, warm flesh snuggled against him, he had thought he was dreaming, that an angel as pure as the heavens was sent from above to capture him in her embrace. It took him a moment to recognize that the temptress in his bed was undoubtedly his own wife. They had conversed when he woke her. Well, the healer talked; he merely listened. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed at him. As of late, he could admit he was downright bitter at times.

When the lass had suspected that he would bed Mary and Aire, he had needed all his strength to keep from strangling his wife. Granted, his mind may have wondered about the wenches in his own private musings, but he would have never bedded them. God’s teeth! He was wed. He was not an idiot. He had spoken his vows, and his mother would’ve castrated him had he not obeyed them.

As they advanced to Castle Campbell, he saw that his new home was even more desolate than he remembered leaving it. Ciaran was right. Although some of the villagers remained, most of the Campbell clan had dispersed when his brother ended the bloody Campbell’s life. How fitting that the waste removal had already been completed.

When the Campbell’s men surrendered, Ciaran had given them a choice. Wait for King James’s verdict on their laird’s treachery or take their leave peacefully. Fortunately, most of them chose the latter.

The men thundered through the gates. Who would have thought that a MacGregor would now own the home of King James’s right-hand man? The bloody Campbell was probably rolling over in his grave. A smile played over Declan’s lips as he glanced at the tower house that dominated the courtyard.

“I see the look upon your face, Brother. Ye should be proud. This is a formidable castle,” Ciaran said as he dismounted.

“’Tis a wee bit bigger than Glenorchy, but ye probably need something as big as this to fit your swelled head,” countered Aiden, tying off his mount.

Declan shrugged. “Mayhap, but the space should make it easier to avoid my wife.”

Aiden chuckled. “Good point. I may pay ye a visit more often to escape Aisling’s ire.”

Giving Aiden a slap on the shoulder, Declan cast him a knowing glance. “And ye know Aisling always has a way of finding ye. Ye cannae hide even though ye try.”

“There is that.”

“Ye should probably think upon a stable master. Ye will need to find someone knowledgeable to care for the mounts. Mayhap someone who remains from the village. Come. Let us view your new home, Brother,” said Ciaran with pride.

Declan was eager to explore. They walked into the great hall, which boasted a vaulted ceiling. Finely woven tapestries were displayed on the gray stone walls, and fine wooden furnishings graced the hall in abundance. There were four floors of accommodation. The storage cellar, kitchens, great hall, and solar were on the first floor and chambers on the two upper floors. Since the men were already too familiar with the dungeon, they deliberately did not seek it out. With all the fine furnishings, this was obviously the home of a man who’d been in favor with King James.

And now it was his.

“Are ye speechless, Brother?” Ciaran regarded him with amusement.

“I donna think I have ever witnessed such an occurrence,” jested Aiden, a flash of humor crossing his features.

For the first time that Declan could remember, he was friendly, smiling, and relaxed with his older brothers. “I am truly in awe.”

His brothers laughed. “Before ye and Liadain take up residence here, ye need to seek men at arms,” directed Ciaran. “I will speak among my men and find ye a captain for your guard.”

“I will require some MacGregor men, but there is nay need to appoint the captain of my guard,” said Declan.

Ciaran hesitated, measuring him for a moment. “Why? Ye need to have—”

“I have already found him.”

An uncertainty crept into Ciaran’s expression. “Who?”

Declan observed him, analyzing his reaction. He loved to unnerve his lairding brother. Wishing he could freeze this particular moment in time, he paused. “Montgomery.” Ciaran’s eyes widened for a brief moment. If Declan had not been watching, he would have missed it.

“Damn,” spat Ciaran. Aiden chuckled until Ciaran’s eyes darkened in warning. Declan knew that glare all too well. “Why, Brother? Why would ye appoint Montgomery as the captain of your guard?” He threw up his hands in the air in exasperation.

“How quickly ye forget that Montgomery was the captain of Armstrong’s guard. The man protected Rosalia and has more than enough skill to fill the title. And besides, he has nay place to call home,” said Declan defensively.

Aiden chuckled again and Ciaran snarled at him. “Why must I take in all of the strays? ’Tis bad enough I get strapped with Magaidh drooling in my boots and ripping my tunics to shreds, but now I will have Montgomery constantly nipping at my wife’s heels. The man was just about to take his leave.”

“Aye, ’tis why I offered him the title. And Montgomery does seem to have a sweet fondness for your wife.” In an exaggerated attempt, Declan winked at Ciaran.

“I think Montgomery overplays his attentiveness to my wife only to fire my ire.”

Declan waved him off. “Ye worry too much, Brother. He cares for Rosalia as a sister.”

“I watched as he attempted to dally with your new wife as well. I am surprised ye didnae flatten him in the middle of the great hall.”

Turning his head away slightly, Declan knew his face had reddened. He did not think his thoughts were so openly known. He would need to be more careful, more guarded.

Aiden clapped his hands once. “What say ye? Should we take our leave and return to Glenorchy now?”

“Ye both can take your leave. There is something I wish to do before I return. I should be back around the time ye sup.”

Ciaran raised his brow. “Are ye sure? We can stay until ye are ready.”

“Nay. I will join ye later.”

***

Fury almost choked Liadain and curses fell from her mouth. She found herself wandering aimlessly and ended up at the stables, where she poured out her grief to her horse. At least the mare was a sympathetic listener.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but as soon as she headed back toward the keep, Rosalia and Aisling sought her out.

“Is everything all right?” Rosalia asked, giving Liadain a warm smile. “Ye seemed somewhat distraught this morn.”

“If that rogue is causing ye grief, ye let me know and I will deal with him. I have had plenty of practice keeping Aiden on a straight path,” Aisling offered, placing her hands on her hips.

“Ye both are verra kind, but I assure ye I am well.”

Aisling and Rosalia exchanged glances and then grabbed Liadain’s arms. The women pulled her along through the courtyard and headed toward the gardens. When they reached the same bench Liadain had occupied the night before, the women flanked her and made her sit. Aisling and Rosalia sat down on each side of her, and an unsettling feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

“We are sisters-by-marriage. If we donna stick together, the men will surely make us daft. We depend upon one another and naught ye speak travels beyond our ears,” Aisling said reassuringly. “When Aiden and I first wed, we were in love. Let me tell ye, it was a long, tedious journey to get there, and believe me when I say that it wasnae an easy feat. After Lady MacGregor passed, I was the only woman in attendance—with three daft men under the same roof. That was indeed painful.”

Rosalia touched Liadain’s shoulder. “When Ciaran brought me to Glenorchy, we had many troubles. If it wasnae for Aisling’s counsel, I donna know what I would have done.”

Aisling patted Liadain’s thigh. “We know Declan is—well, Declan. We have all tried to help him, but if someone doesnae want your assistance, ye cannae make them take it. We are here for ye if ye want to talk about things. Or scream in frustration. We do understand and want ye to know that ye arenae alone.”

There was a heavy silence.

Liadain had never needed anyone but herself. Now she had two women offering her support. She was not sure how to respond. She smiled sheepishly, thinking to be honest. “I am honored that ye offer me comfort, but I truly donna understand why.”

Aisling’s brows shot up in surprise. “We are kin.”

She gasped. “Kin? Why would ye consider me as such? My brother held ye both and—”

“Ye saved us,” Aisling simply stated.

“But I am a Campbell.” She bit her lip and glanced down at her hands.

Rosalia rubbed her back in a soothing gesture. “Ye are wrong. Ye are a MacGregor and we are kin. We care for our own.”

Caught unaware by their affection and support, Liadain merely smiled. “I donna know what to say to that. Ye honor me.”

Aisling waved her off. “Cease. Now tell us what is on your mind. We cannae read it.”

As soon as Liadain opened her mouth, words flew out like a raging river. She wasn’t sure of half the things she said.

“Men are fools,” spat Aisling. “They donna know what they want until ye tell them. Besides, ye are a verra bonny lass and ye know one thing for certain. Declan enjoys women overmuch. He will eventually soften toward ye. Ye think now that he has all the power.” She giggled, shaking her head. “Ye hold more than ye think.”

“I donna know about that. He said we were taking our leave for Castle Campbell yester eve and I had hoped to start anew. Yet, here I am and he isnae,” Liadain spoke with disappointment.

“Liadain, he traveled first with Ciaran and Aiden to inspect the castle. I donna think he would take his new wife into a home that has nay servants. Ye donna even have a cook,” explained Rosalia, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“I suppose ye are right.”

Aisling stood and straightened her skirts. “Ye know what I think? Ye need a distraction.” Aisling glanced at Rosalia and winked. “I think we need to create something, a surprise, for your new husband when ye do take your leave.”

It took Rosalia a moment to understand Aisling’s hidden meaning, but when she did, Rosalia flew to her feet. “Ye are right. Let us travel to the village and seek Cylan.”

“Cylan?” asked Liadain, raising her brow. She stood and adjusted her skirts, not sure if she should be cautious or excited.

“Aye. Trust in us,” said Rosalia.