Highland Seer (27 page)

Ellie exhaled in relief.

“’Tis good yer man obeys ye,” MacDuff said quietly.

Ellie sat too close to miss the menace in his tone.

“I’d hate to have to kill him in the middle of a meal.” He smirked at his man beside him, then tossed back the rest of the ale in his cup.

Ellie closed her eyes and willed herself to calmness. Shrieking at the MacDuff would get her and her people exactly nowhere. “If ye harm him in the least again,” she replied softly, “I willna cooperate.”

He turned to face her, as stern as a parent schooling a child. “Then yer people will suffer for it, lass. Never forget that. Their well-being depends on ye.”

“I havena forgotten it, Lachlan. ’Tis a fact I’ve lived with since I became laird, as ye well ken. But if ye imagine I will be a biddable wife to ye, then let us have an understanding.” She returned his stare, fighting to look as stern and formidable to him as he did to her. “My people willna be harmed in any way.” Her jaw tightened. “Ever.”

“The only understanding we’ll have, lass, is that ye’ll do as I say, with nary an argument, or yer people will suffer. As ye sow, so they will reap, aye?”

Ellie’s stomach roiled. What choice did she have? With Donal gone, along with most of his men, she could not physically fight the MacDuff, nor could Bram take them all on at once. Nay, she couldn’t openly defy Lachlan MacDuff. He clearly had no patience for it. He’d warned her again that her people would suffer. She didn’t dare risk their safety to make a point. She must bide her time and wait for Donal’s return, or for the arrival of the men from the treaty clans Jamie had promised.

Perhaps Lachlan didn’t know she’d signed the treaty! For a moment, Ellie saw a ray of hope. He would not be expecting trouble until the Lathans he’d already met returned with the whisky wagons. Though how she would explain the situation in time to keep the MacDuff from ambushing the newcomers, she didn’t know. She prayed Corum got to them first with the news. If she could hold out for a few more days, the MacKyries would stand a chance of surviving the MacDuff invasion.

“Answer me, Elspeth.”

“Aye, I hear ye, Lachlan.”

His hands clenched into fists. “Ye hear me? Is that all?”

Ellie tensed, trying not to cringe. Had she pushed too hard? “Is it no’ enough? I will do as ye bid. Is that what ye want me to say?”

“I can see ye will continue to fight me at every turn.” Lachlan sighed, surprising her. Now what?

“I’d hoped to do this with more ceremony, but ye leave me with little choice.”

Ellie’s heart beat faster. What did he mean? What was he going to do?

MacDuff stood, rapping on the table for attention as he gained his feet. “In order to make my claim perfectly clear and prevent any further resistance or any interference by outside parties,” he said and paused to look at Ellie, then back out at the people in the hall, “I’ve decided to dispense with the posting of the banns. Laird MacKyrie and I will be wed tomorrow at sunset.”

Ellie couldn’t contain her gasp as her heart leapt to her throat. Nay! Her head started spinning. She knew she must be pale as a ghost. She choked, fighting to keep from crying out. Not yet! Not so soon! She couldn’t find the breath. And even if she could, she didn’t dare try to speak around the lump in her throat.

A low-rumbled muttering began to echo around the hall. The MacDuff continued speaking as if there’d been no reaction to his announcement from her or anyone else. “The cook will prepare an appropriate feast of celebration to follow the ceremony. I’ll expect every member of this clan to attend to witness our union.”

“Nay!” Micheil shouted. He stood so abruptly that his chair toppled over backwards. His movement served as catalyst, causing MacKyrie males, young and old, to attack the MacDuff clansmen scattered throughout the hall.

Ellie leapt to her feet, then blanched to see her young lads swinging fists at the big MacDuff warriors.

Micheil pulled his dirk and went after one of the MacDuffs, who pulled his sword.

The fight ended almost before it started, since the MacKyries hadn’t a hope of winning. Several of her people lay unconscious and bleeding. Others, Micheil among them, stood at swordpoint, awaiting the laird’s justice.

Ellie glanced at Lachlan MacDuff. He sprawled in his chair, sipping ale, watching the aftermath of the fight with an amused expression Ellie feared more than his anger. She’d seen him like this before. In this mood, he was as likely to kill someone as not.

“See how yer people defend ye, Laird MacKyrie,” he taunted. “Willing to lay down their lives to protect yer sacred honor. How touching.”

“Dinna harm them, Lachlan, or I swear, this wedding will never take place if I have to kill myself to prevent it.”

“Aye, ye could do that. But the result would be the same. I would control yer holdings. Of course, I would miss ye, Ellie, and the pleasures we’ve yet to experience as man and wife.”

Bile rose in Ellie’s throat, despite the fact that she’d eaten very little. She clenched her fists against it. “I can’t imagine taking any pleasure with ye, Lachlan.”

“Perhaps no’,” he answered mildly. “It doesna matter to me whether ye do or nay. I will have mine, with ye or with the women of yer clan, since ye dinna plan to be alive to divert me.”

Gods, was this to be her fate in life? To go from being a new bride to a widow inside of weeks, then years later to be forced by a much older man to choose between death and dishonor? And disgust? She looked out over the great hall. Her people were watching her, waiting for her to save their lives or seal their fate. She had to prevent this travesty of a marriage, but she could not do so at the cost of her peoples’ lives or the rape of her clanswomen. Her eyes watered but she stiffened her spine. She would not cry. She must be strong for her people, to give them hope that somehow this nightmare would end. Some of them were barely more than bairns, for God’s sake, and Lachlan’s men held dirks to their throats. She’d always suspected the MacDuff had a cruel streak in him, but seeing her suspicions proven right gave her no comfort.

“Tell yer men to stand down, Lachlan. Release my people. I willna fight ye.”

“Very wise, my dear.”

At his nod, his men released their prisoners and stepped back.

“Go on, everyone. Begin the preparations for tomorrow’s festivities. I look forward to celebrating properly with my new bride.”

Ellie glared at Micheil.

He nodded and dropped his shoulders.

Now was neither the time nor the place for heroics. His had nearly killed some of his kinsmen. Even the youngest were at risk. The MacDuff men had shown her that.

She saw one of them talking to Sawney, her steward. Something seemed odd. The old man looked defeated, shoulders slumped, with a gray pallor to his skin Ellie didn’t like at all. But it made sense he would be in charge of much of the preparations. She dismissed her ripple of unease as she observed their intense conversation. Then Lachlan stood and placed a proprietary hand on her shoulder, diverting her attention.

“Let us retire, Ellie. The others have much work to do and our presence here delays them.”

Ach, nay. Surely he didn’t intend to have the wedding night before the wedding? He released her shoulder and held out his hand. She held her breath and rose, ignoring his hand. “I’m tired, Lachlan, and I, too, have much to do. I must meet with my ladies to discuss arrangements.”

He paused, considering, then nodded. “As ye should. Very well, go take care of yer preparations. I’ll leave ye to it this evening. Tomorrow night is soon enough.”

Ellie nearly fainted with relief. She dug her fingernails into her palms to force herself to stay on her feet, nodded and walked away. Would Lachlan change his mind and call her back? Or come to her tonight?

At least for the moment, she escaped up the stairs. The tears came as soon as she reached her chamber. Where was Donal?

****

At sunset, Donal passed through the clearing where the wagons had been attacked. He slowed his pace, wanting true darkness to fall before he ventured farther. He expected the MacDuff to post sentries where they could easily ride to warn their laird of approaching horsemen. That meant the greatest danger lay on the MacKyrie side of the pass. If he had to fight through them, he would, but he’d rather avoid them and keep moving. They would be listening for many riders. A lone man could slip through unnoticed in the dark.

Donal knew better than to count on that. There could be men on this side of the pass, too. He dismounted and looped the reins around a branch. The forest had thinned out at this elevation. In the fading light of the gloaming, patches of snow on north-facing exposures took on a pearly gleam. Trees grew smaller and stood farther apart. Less cover for him, but also less cover for watchers. He stood, one hand on the horse’s withers to keep it still, and waited, scanning the deepening shadows for any hint of movement. Nothing. After several minutes, he dropped into a crouch and made his way slowly in the direction of the pass. If there were watchers, he would find them.

He crept more than a mile closer to the pass, all of it uphill and most in full darkness, before he sensed something ahead of him. A sneeze broke the silence. Donal’s mouth curved up into a feral, satisfied smirk. His instincts had been correct. Where one watcher waited, there would be two or more. He had the location of the first, thanks to the sneeze. Where were the others?

The only warning he had was the slide of a sword from its scabbard. Suddenly two men stepped out of the woods and faced him. Damn. It seemed he must fight. He pulled his own blade.

“A wee late for traveling, aye?” one of the men taunted.

Who were these men? He studied each one. They didn’t wear the MacDuff badge. They looked a bit ragged, despite their weaponry.

“That is a fine claymore you carry. Do you have any other valuables on you?”

“Who are ye?” He tightened his grip on his sword and loosened his knees, ready to move in any direction.

“Ach, a conversation you’d have with us, then? Delaying will not change the outcome. I’ll have the sword. And your purse. Give them over and we’ll let you live.”

Something about the man’s speech. Aye. Donal had it now. Lowlanders. Remnants of the army they’d broken up last year? Were these the men who’d attacked the wagons, and not the MacDuffs as they’d thought?

He kept his tone level. If he was right, these men could be starving, desperate, and extremely volatile. Yet they puzzled him. They seemed calm and self-assured. They had some success with their banditry, then. “Ye were Colbridge’s men.”

“You know us, do you? Perhaps we fought you before now, aye? And you lived to tell the tale?”

“Aye, as did ye. I see ye didna make it back to the Lowlands.”

“No’ yet. We’ve done well enough here to stay for a while.”

“I’ll warn ye, then, to keep moving south.”

“I’ll thank you for your concern, and ask you again, nicely, to give me your weapons.”

Donal held out empty hands. “If I refuse yer nicely given request?”

“Then Lanny there will have to take them.”

That comment and the twig snapping at his back were all the warning Donal got. A blow to the back of his head him knocked him to his knees. Damn, he thought as everything went black, how could I let this happen?

****

The sun blazing through the windows did little to brighten Ellie’s mood as she paced around the solar. She dreaded to see it set on this day. The preparations for the feast were nearly done, the hall decorated, the hearth festooned with fir and holly. But this was not the wedding Ellie had ever expected or wanted. Not like this, and not to a man like Lachlan MacDuff.

Despite her initial fears, he had left her alone, both last night and so far today, but this night boded to be much worse. Where was he? Out with his men? Up to more mischief? Nay, he’d not damage anything else, not when he was this close to becoming Laird and owning it all. More likely, he was out looking for Lathans, making sure they had no chance to ride to her rescue.

She doubted an impending wedding unsettled him as it did some prospective grooms. After all, he’d been through many of them. He had no qualms about forcing her into this one, despite the fact that any priest with scruples would refuse to perform the holy ceremony if the bride expressed her unwillingness to marry. Lucky for him, they had an unscrupulous friar at hand.

She walked circles around the chairs occupied by Micheil and Friar Tam. They kept turning their heads to follow her progress. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, the thought of making them dizzy would have amused her.

“There’s only one solution,” Micheil declared. “If we canna kill him, then ye and I must hand-fast. Or marry, if ye will it. That will prevent the unwanted match.”

Ellie smiled sadly as his bravery, misplaced though it might be. “Wedding me would accomplish nothing but yer death, my friend.” He knew that as well as she did. “Aye,” she said to forestall an argument from him, “it might buy us some time for Donal to return. More likely, I’d become a widow twice over, this time in less than a day.”

Micheil shrugged, acknowledging the truth of it. Friar Tam wrung his hands. He’d said little.

She could see the pity in both their eyes. She couldn’t stand that, and yet, there was little enough she could do to change it. Little enough, aye, but perhaps just enough.

Micheil shifted in his chair. “We’ll fight his men and get ye out of this.” He’d gone back to his old idea when none of them could come up with anything else to prevent this travesty of a ceremony from taking place.

Ellie lifted an eyebrow at his bandaged arm. Then she shook her head and kept walking, passing behind them. “Nay, ye tried that and it didna work. His patience is at an end. He spared ye before. All to prove a point to me,” she added quickly as Micheil started to object. She paused before him. “Lachlan coulda killed ye in the yard, and his men couldha killed ye and many more in the hall.” She narrowed her eyes at Micheil, daring him to contradict her.

Instead, he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“He won’t spare ye again. Nay, there is no other choice.”