Highland Scandal (2 page)

“Caelen,” MacLean said in way of greeting. Ailsa elbowed him in his ribs. He rolled his nearly black eyes.

“It is Lord Wester Ross,” Ailsa said.

“Not to me. Rowen, please come and warm yourself.”

A groom took her mount. She gathered her cloak about her and headed into the great hall. The deer antlers hung in the center of the hall, surrounded by tapestries and homey touches Ailsa had added to the once stark space. Once in front of the roaring fire, she stretched out her hands. The heat slowly chipped away at the chill.

Ailsa stared at her. Her green eyes shined and Rowen knew she wanted to speak. She must have gathered her resolve because she said, “Marriage can be quite frightening. The life…nay, the person, you were will no longer exist.”

Rowen wished she would cease.

“I was terrified of wedding Duncan.” She looked at her husband with a besotted visage. “But with patience, kindness, and openness, I fell in love and now live a blessed life.”

Her spine straightened. “I shall do my duty like women have before and will continue to do.”

“It doesn’t need to be a hair shirt you must wear for your lifetime.”

A roar rent through the great hall followed by the sweetest sound—a bairn’s laugh. Connor ran over, wielding his sword while the nurse brought Sioda—the sweetest lass in the highlands, with fiery red hair, a temper hotter than the red of her locks, and a scowl that matched it. Or at least that was how her father, Duncan, described her.

Connor halted and bow. He threw himself against her legs. “Ye smell like horse.” He ran out of the hall and toward the kitchen, most likely to steal a treat.

“I think you should clean up.” Ailsa rocked Sioda.

“Aye, it would not be good to meet my husband for the first time smelling of horse.” She smiled. It even felt as if she meant it.

“Thankfully Lachlan sent word when he spotted you, so the water should be here very soon.” Ailsa and Sioda shared a look. Rowen might have laughed if not for the tug she felt at the mention of his name. She shook it off.

Sioda stretched out her chubby arms. Rowen took her. She followed the lairdess to a chamber at the top of the castle tower. The room was small, but sufficient. She would not be here long.

Rowen wandered to the small window. The faint Scottish sunlight strained to shine. She didn’t even feel its warmth. She stared out to MacLean lands. From behind, she heard her bath being prepared.

“All is ready,” Ailsa said. “This is Anna. She’ll assist you.”

Rowen handed over Sioda. Anna stared at Rowen. Ailsa departed from the chamber. This fresh-faced lass must be new to the castle. She blinked, and then took Rowen’s mantle from her shoulders. Once undressed, Rowen sank low in the tub. This wasn’t an everyday washing. She was preparing for her husband.

* * * *

Lachlan lingered in the courtyard. He refused to step inside. No doubt, he could find a widow to warm the night with. He just had to stay away from the Great Hall and Rowen. Damn, she was so beautiful sitting upon her horse. She was so near to him. He could have snatched her up and run away. He couldn’t go near her. He kicked at a rock. Why did MacLean have to permit the marriage here? MacKenzie Castle was fitting enough. But the lairdess had to be pregnant. Murray’s lands were just as fitting, but lacked a female touch. Och, weren’t there women in the clan? Such ruminations failed to matter. She was here.

He peered up at the tower. She was in there and tonight he would be also…unless there was an attack or a raid. He prayed for a raid.

Lachlan leaned against the wall. He straightened as Caelen took his spot beside him, as he had countless times before. They watched the castle people stroll by them.

“All is good?” Caelen asked.

“Aye. Your wife?”

“Fat with child again. She wishes for a daughter.” He crossed his bare arms.

“You wish for a son.”

“I know what men do with women.” Castle folk hurried on at Caelen’s scowl.

“This marriage should happen soon.”

“Aye, Father Murray is here. I heard about Father Sullivan.”

Lachlan chuckled. “A skeleton of a man. Why they sent that man—I do not know. He had been here for two days. He stuttered whenever Duncan laid his gaze on him. When he saw me, he looked like he smelled something most foul.”

“Women?”

“Sin, so I guess the daughters of Eve left a certain smell only priest can catch whiff of. He fled in the morning.”

“Did you really chase after him?”

“Aye, he said, ‘you are the devil’. Me and Duncan were standing like this, so I had to find out which one of us he spoke of.” Lachlan chuckled. “I ran beside his animal. He kicked his heels harder, but I stayed alongside him. When I asked him, that poor holy man paled and then reddened. He proclaimed we were both devils. I thanked him and told him I wouldn’t want to lose my reputation.”

Caelen laughed. Lachlan felt a lightness that had been missing since the wedding negotiations began. It was the damn hardest thing to make Caelen laugh.

His laughter cut off at the approaching riders. The Murrays arrived. Lachlan stared at Eacharn riding among his father’s men. Bile rose in his throat and its foul taste filled his mouth. He gulped back the burning spew.

He should hate that man. He was getting to spend the rest of his days with the woman Lachlan loved. But Eacharn, the plump bastard, was a good man. He was always in the center of a fight. He was sharp-minded and loved Lachlan’s humor. Hell, Lachlan admitted it—he liked him. Not that he’d say it to him.

One more thing denied Lachlan. Nay, he was not feeling pity for himself. Never. His temper roared like a hundred Highlanders on a charge. He pushed away from the wall, only realizing Caelen had left him. Halfway out of the courtyard, he turned back. His duty was to stand with MacLean.

He took his place at MacLean’s side. Ailsa craned her neck to look around her husband and looked at him for few moments too long. Duncan and the Lairdess welcomed Laird Murray and his son. Caelen and the Laird shared a quick greeting.

“The bridegroom is here, but where is the bride?”

“She is cleaning up from her journey.”

Laird Murray slapped his son on the back. “You ought to do the same.”

Eacharn nodded. “I do wish to meet her at my best.” He stood beside his father as Duncan and Caelen spoke of Hakon’s return home.

“He is near Orkney. He should reach shore in mere days,” Caelen said. “From the shore, my clanfolk have spotted the ships.”

“They will send an envoy for peace,” Duncan said.

“Why?” Laird Murray asked. “I would fight again.”

“Hakon is old. The isles are too far for him to govern if they bow down to his rule.”

Lachlan listened to the men discuss the skirmish at Largs. To him, the fighting was less than a skirmish more of a forceful disagreement. The king, like his father before him, wanted those lands as part of Scotland.”

“Lachlan,” Eacharn said, approaching him. “’Tis a while since we have met, but I have heard stories from a priest.”

“It is all true.”

“That I never doubted. I wish to speak to you, privately. Come join me for a drink.”

Duncan and Ailsa led the way into the great hall. Lachlan stepped behind Caelen and the laird with Eacharn at his side. Lachlan poured them wine, and then handed the wooden cup to Eacharn. They moved away from the others speaking.

Lachlan took a long taste. “What can I help you with?”

Eacharn had taken a sip. He tapped a finger against the cup.

Lachlan smacked his lips. He wanted to talk about Rowen. Men came to him to find out about bedding, what the lasses’ like, even what to say. He looked about the hall for an escape. MacLean stood with Laird Murray and Caelen. A few MacLean men gathered about along with some Murray men. Here he would remain even though he couldn’t have this talk.

“I seek your advice. I know Rowen has spent a great deal of time here…since her brother was fostered here and being MacLean’s commander. I was hoping you could tell me more about her. Caelen told me that she is the most proper of ladies. I believe he worries that I am having doubts but I want to learn more about her.”

Lachlan took another sip. The wine tasted sour.
Speaking of her to another man.
A burn flared through his chest. “She is as her brother described. She has a sharp mind, so always be honest with her. She will take time to be comfortable with you, but she will not be rude. She has a wicked humor and a keen sense of family. Also try not to stare at her. She does not like it.”

Her face flashed in his mind. Her pale, golden hair glowed about her face like a halo. The ghostliness of her skin unmarred by even a blemish. Her steady, aquamarine blue gaze revealed nothing and could make a highlander tremble. The notched angle of her chin when surrounded by those people she was unacquainted with. People thought she was haughty. In a way, she was, but there was warmth behind her icy demeanor.

Lachlan tossed back the rest of his wine, and then wiped his mouth on his forearm. Eacharn pressed his lips together and nodded as if acknowledging Lachlan’s love for Rowen.

“So, give her time and take nothing to heart. She will open up to me.”

Lachlan nodded, afraid his voice might betray him.

“I thank you, Lachlan. I know this is hard for you.” Eacharn clapped him on the arm before he walked away.

Lachlan stared into the empty glass and then set it on a stool. He moved to escape from the smoky hall, but then halted.

Rowen stood between him and his exit. Her
arisaid
was of the finest material with the edge embroidered with a saffron design. The light color seemed bright against her embroidered heather-hued
leine
. Torch light caught the fine, purple threads.

His breath rushed from his chest. She looked so alone, trying to be unaffected. He saw the small waver in her armor, a quick straightening of her
leine.
Her pink, plump mouth parted slightly and she held his gaze. The air crackled. He could hear it snap. She moved and he noticed Ailsa at her side.

Lachlan slipped from the hall and away from her.

A fortnight and she would be gone.

Forever.

Chapter Two

Eacharn met her as she joined the others. Laird Murray pushed aside his son and stared at her. Rowen raised her chin. Her nostrils pinched at the stench of sweat, wine, and unwashed flesh. His heavily hooded eyes obscured his gaze. Her hairs lifted. She leaned away from him when she wanted to flee.

“You may not be wed yet, lass, but I welcome you to the clan.” Laird Murray raised his cup.

Eacharn pushed aside his father. She waited for the shiver that happened when men looked upon her. He smiled warmly.

“Forgive me, I didn’t clean up. Perhaps, you will walk with me.”

His voice was gritty and possessed warmth. His smile seemed genuine.

Her shoulders lowered from around her ears. “I shall.”

In silence, they headed from the great hall and up to the battlements. The wind blew about, sending her hair blowing across her face. She grabbed the ends, twisted the length of her strands, and tucked them in her
arisaid
. She took in the landscape while he fastened his attention on her. At first, she ignored it. She felt his regard bore into her as his gleaming blue-eyed gaze flittered over every sliver of her face. The moment dragged on. A hot, prickled itch spread from her cheek down her neck. She clenched her jaw, feeling as if the bone could turn to dust in any moment.

“Enough of your staring. It is unnerving.” His gaze had not turned away from her. Much like his father, he possessed hooded eyes. Between the heavy lids, the piercing blue hue shone brightly. The color proclaimed his Celtic roots.

His brows resembled half circles and made him look comical as they rose up, pleating his small forehead. His cheeks flushed a deeper red. His thin lips formed an O, and then he pressed them together. His little double chin shook. “Forgive me. I did not know I was gawking. You are very striking.”

He tapped his thick fingers together.
Tap. Tap. Tap.

She faced him. “Neither one of us knows what to say. I hope our union will have better conversations.”

His arms dropped to his side. “Me too. All arrangements happened very swiftly. My father talked about it one eve, and then it seemed we were to wed. Rowen, I promise to be a good husband to you. I do not beat women and hope one day we will have some tenderness.”

“I am glad. I wish for some tenderness as well. Let us begin with a friendship.”

“Aye. Samhain is days away.”

“You have heard the stories? Of course, they have spread across Scotland. I am not a witch.”

“I know. You are the MacKenzie banshee. I hope you will protect the Murray clan as you do your own.”

“I do not ride out in battle,” she bit out and looked down her nose at him.

He gave a nervous chuckle. “This was not how I planned this to go. I meant to be charming. I hope that you will give a piece of your loyalty to the Murray clan.”

“That will depend upon my treatment.”

“I vow that no one shall treat you less than your station deserves.”

His thick, black hair swayed in the swirling breeze and added a fierceness to him. His bright eyes softened. He was earnest. How much did he wish for this union? More than herself, she knew. She swallowed.

“You cannot make such a promise.”

His black brows pinched. “I can because I shall treat you as your position as my wife demands. I shall not allow anything less from my people.”

“I believe you.”

He smiled with such relish his eyes became crinkled slits. “Let’s return so I can clean up before the evening meal.” He motioned her ahead of him. She walked to the stairs.

Her hopes rose. She looked over her shoulder at him. Eacharn wasn’t domineering, but commanding. If not for her giving up the man she loved, Rowen would have entered this marriage with more hope than she felt.

Reaching the hall, he departed to clean up. The reinforced door opened, sending in the Highland air that carried the scent of rain. Lachlan walked by her and whispered, “Tonight.”